Oil and Water
by SonChihan
Summary: After Kikuchiyo nearly loses his life saving Kanna village from the capitol, he is forced to recooperate away for a number of years. Now he has returned to the village he saved, Kikuchiyo sees that Komachi is no longer the clingy little girl he left behind; now she is a clingy, beautiful young woman. How will the mech samurai deal when he's faced with true love? KikuxKoma.
1. Prologue: The Separation

So, this is a Samurai 7 fanfic...the only one I'll do. There are too little KikuKoma stories, so that's this one. Since the ending to the actual show was suckish, I decided to improve it. Note: Heihachi and Kikuchiyo do survive, but Kyuzou still dies. I don't like him; he can stay dead. This is all from Kikuchiyo's point of veiw, posiblly delving a bit into others'. Please, feel free to comment.

Oil and Water

Prologue: The Separation

"Kiku! Kiku!" Kikuchiyo, the mechanical seventh samurai of Kanna Village, let out a raspy groan as his systems attempted to reboot. He felt awful, like a train had run over him….which he suddenly remembered wasn't entirely far from the truth. He vaguely recalled a falling airship, a giant sword, pain and burning….it was too much to try and remember all at once. He tried instead to concentrate on the little voice he heard calling his name…but it sounded so far away. "Kiku! Kiku wake up! Please, answer me!" The little voice was closer now, above him, by his head. There was a slight pressure on his shoulder, like someone was shoving him with small hands. He tried to place the voice, but his processors were refusing to feed him any data. The voice faded in and out of coherence, until finally, he felt a sharp rap on the side of his face.

"Arg! Cut…that out!" The very act of speaking hurt. Kikuchiyo finally felt the strength to open his visual field, the doors of the lens creaking as if coated in rust. His optical feed picked up a shape directly above him, a shape that slowly focused into a fuzzy-outlined human face. It took a moment before his processor-brain was able to recognize the face: it was little Komachi, the younger sister of water priestess Kirara. Her moony eyes were round with worry, tears spilling down her cheeks and her eyebrows slanted up. Her face was a little grimy, and her clothes seemed torn in some places, but other than that she looked unhurt. Kikuchiyo gathered what strength he could to speak again. His voice came out in short bursts filled with static, but he just had to say something; she looked so worried. "Wa…Wha-at's with th-e tears, Sprout?" Komachi gasped and looked directly into Kikuchiyo's visor. When she saw the flickering light emanating from the slit, she let out a cry that could have been both a laugh and a sob.

"Oh, Kiku! You're awake! You're okay!" Kikuchiyo gave a chuckle that quickly turned into a static-filled cough.

"I…wo-uldn't s-say okay…b-but-t-t I am al…al-ive." He shuddered greatly, and steam exploded out of his ventilation ducts. He was alive for now, but he couldn't be sure how long that would last. Komachi saw that her friend was in pain and her sobs deepened. She laid her head down on his shoulder and gripped his tattered jacket, her tears staining the fabric and metal.

"You saved us, Kiku," she sniffled, nuzzling him with her cheek. "You saved the whole village. You were so brave…but now you're hurt…Why'd you do it, Kiku?" Kikuchiyo wanted to place a comforting hand on her back, but he then remembered he was missing his right arm. He frowned, wondering what else was missing. With an enormous effort, Kikuchiyo ordered his systems to do a full self-scan to see how damaged his body was. The results that flickered on his data feed screen made his heart twist. He wasn't only missing his right arm, but both his legs as well, from the knee down. There were multiple punctures in fluid reservoirs throughout his body, including the vital main line down his middle. The joints in his left arm were all torn apart, so even though he still had the arm he couldn't move it very well. His bottom jaw part was gone, and he was leaking both blood and oil from several places, mostly from his lack of legs. He felt the blood-oil mixture trickling down his face, but he couldn't tell how big the wound was. He ran a deeper scan and saw that the remaining human parts of him had suffered concussive damage as well. Ribs were broken, a few organs were bruised, and his lung was punctured.

'Crap,' he thought, 'I'm really in trouble.' Komachi's pathetic weeping brought him back to reality. With a creaking effort, Kikuchiyo lifted his left arm up and settled it down onto the little girl's trembling shoulder. The movement sent pain and sparks shooting through his shoulder, but Kikuchiyo ignored it. He had to do what he could to make things easier for the poor girl. "H-ey, come on n-ow, Sprout. Don't b-be…..uh-upset." Komachi closed her eyes and buried her face in his jacket, her sobs nearly uncontrollable.

"You can't die, Kiku!" she sniveled. "Please don't die! Don't leave me; I love you, Kiku!" Kikuchiyo couldn't think of anything to say to that. He simply stroked the girl's shoulder with his thumb, ignoring the jolts of pain the simple action caused him. "Don't die. Don't die

"Shhh."

Kikuchiyo felt himself slowly drifting into unconsciousness, but he knew if he gave in he probably wouldn't get out again. So, he latched onto Komachi's presence at his shoulder, concentrating only on her; her soft, quivering back beneath his hand, her breathy sobs, her warm cheek against his metal skin. She anchored him to this world, just like she had been doing since he met her. But then, suddenly, Komachi's sobs halted, and she looked up at someone approaching from behind. Kikuchiyo couldn't turn his head or get up to see, but he realized he recognized the voice of the people when they next spoke.

"He's alive. We must find a way to get him back to Kanna, before it's too late." It was Kambei's voice. Kikuchiyo tried to speak, but only static escaped his vocal box.

"He's losing a lot of blood, Kambei-sama. I don't know how we're going to transport him." That voice belonged to Shichiroji.

"Sensei, if we get the barge over here we can make a litter for him. But, I don't think getting him back to the village will do him any good; he needs a mechanic." Katsushiro…

A breathless laugh echoed from somewhere near where Katsushiro's voice had sounded.

"He's….still got a heart, y'know…He n…needs a doctor." That was….

"He…Hei-ha…chi?" Kikuchiyo managed to ground out. He'd thought for sure Heihachi was dead. Kambei's profile appeared in Kikuchiyo's line of sight. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, and his clothes were pretty torn up, but other than that he looked okay. Komachi gave a desperate gasp and reached a hand out to the samurai leader.

"Kambei, can you help him?" she asked shrilly. The dejection in the little girl's voice broke Kikuchiyo's heart. A worried voice sounded from somewhere behind her, and Komachi was suddenly scooped up out of Kikuchiyo's sight. He was about to protest, but then he heard a concerned whimper from where the girl had disappeared.

"Oh, Komachi! Why'd you just run off like that? I thought you might have been hurt!" It was Kirara, Komachi's sister. Kikuchiyo relaxed, and coughed furiously a couple of times, causing oil and blood to spray from the wound in his head and his gaping jaw.

"Kikuchiyo-dono!" Katsushiro appeared on Kikuchiyo's other side, directly opposite Kambei. A bleeding, breathless Heihachi was slung across his back, Katsushiro holding him up by the legs. The woodcutter samurai's legs were completely crushed and bloodied, yet he still had that goofy smile on his face. Shichiroji came over to stand beside Kambei, and Kirara appeared beside Katsushiro, Komachi weeping into her shoulder. Kambei knelt down beside Kikuchiyo, his face closed but searching. Kikuchiyo tried to say something, something to get them all to stop staring at him so depressingly, but all he could muster was a ragged breath and another cough. His punctured lung was beginning to take its toll.

"Be still, Kikuchiyo-dono," said Kambei quietly. His eyes roved over the mech-samurai's damaged frame, his grim mouth tightening, and then he returned his gaze to Kikuchiyo's face. "Do not worry. We shall get you the help you need; just try to hold on a little longer, my friend."

Kikuchiyo took in another bloody breath, and felt the weight of pain pressing down on him. He closed his visor, but he was able to keep his attention on Komachi's sniffles, thereby keeping him in this world.

….Kambei had called him "friend"…

The group of survivors carried Kikuchiyo on a makeshift litter away from the battlefield and back to the shelters of Kanna village. He was only vaguely aware of the trip there, but he was always conscious of the small pressure of Komachi's hand on his limp left index finger. They carried him to where the huts were thickest and set him down in the middle of the path, then moved to make arrangements for him and Heihachi. The injured woodcutter samurai was laid in a hut near the path to be attended to by the older women. Kikuchiyo caught a few snippets of what people were saying about him: Heihachi's legs were crushed but they might heal eventually, but his back was most likely broken; he probably wouldn't walk again. Kyuzou was dead, accidentally shot by Katsushiro. He was in an empty hut, waiting to be buried. Kikuchiyo sighed, and winced at the pain it caused him. He was waiting to be buried too; he just didn't want to admit it yet. Komachi never left his side.

There was a commotion somewhere; Kikuchiyo was quickly losing his ability to sense direction with the blood that still poured from his wounds. Komachi's presence faded for a moment, but then quickly returned, her round child face appearing in his field of vision. She still had tears in her eyes, but there was a smile on her mouth.

"Old man Masamune is here, Kiku!" she said, giving him a pat. "He's here already! He'll be able to fix you!" Kikuchiyo folded his brow plate in a frown. Masamune was here? Had the old man known that they would be battling the capital? Had his mechanic known that Kikuchiyo would nearly get himself blown up? The commotion drew closer, and then there were suddenly people around him, both familiar and not. People from the village mixed with samurai, and at the head of the crowd, looking down at him with a mixture of frustration and concern, was Masamune.

"My God, Kiku," the old mechanic huffed, shuffling over and taking a knee beside the injured samurai, his expert eyes roving Kikuchiyo's wounds, "You must have a death wish." Kikuchiyo huffed, and coughed laboriously.

"Don't….le-lect-ure me, old man," he rasped. "I feel…like crap." Masamune nodded and pulled out a small remote. He ran a full-body scan over Kikuchiyo, and mumbled something under his breath.

"Can you do anything for him, Masamune-san?" asked Katsushiro. Masamune stroked his beard for a moment, reading the results of his scan.

"Well…he's suffered quite a lot of damage, both mechanical and bodily," the mechanic said grimly. "If he had only retained injuries to his frame, I'd be able to repair him here in the village. It'd take a while, and I'd have to retrieve some more tools, but I could do it. However," his face darkened, "his real human body has been damaged too, and the connections to it are in need of repairs. I can't do anything for him here; I'm afraid I'll have to transport him back to my shop in Hogakyo." Komachi sniffled, and the samurai's faces tightened simultaneously.

"Can he even survive that long of a journey?" asked Shichiroji. Masamune gave a gruff snort.

"Not conscious he won't," he said grimly. "I'll have to put his systems in stasis mode, so that his power can be rerouted to keeping his human body functioning." He looked down at into Kikuchiyo's visor. "Sorry Kiku, but I'm going to have to put you under; hopefully you'll reboot when we get back to Hogakyo." Komachi frowned and waved a hand at the old man.

"Does that mean Kiku is going to sleep?" she asked. Masamune smirked.

"In a manner of speaking; his systems will be subdued to just the vitals, so that he doesn't waste any energy. Trust me, it's a lot safer."

The villagers put together a sturdy wagon built for long-distance travel, and the samurai laid Kikuchiyo down in the bed of the wagon. Katsushiro let Masamune hook his turtle-horse to the wagon to pull it. They carefully strapped the injured mech-samurai down so he wouldn't be jostled on the journey. Kambei and Shichiroji insisted they escort the makeshift caravan to Firefly House, and Kambei proclaimed that he would follow through to Hogakyo. Katsushiro would stay in Kanna to oversee the village repairs and look after Heihachi. The villagers pressed in around the cart to bid their savior a final farewell. Kikuchiyo could hardly make out their faces by now, and his hearing was starting to fade. Kirara surprised him, however, by giving him a light kiss on his dented cheek.

"Thank-you," she whispered, a tear sliding from her eye and landing on his face. Kikuchiyo looked at her. If he still had his bottom jaw, he would have smiled. Komachi climbed up into the cart and seated herself at Kikuchiyo's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Kiku," she said, her voice trembling but having regained its bouncy glee, "I'll be by your side all the way!" Kirara made a disapproving noise and shook her head.

"No, Komachi," she said sternly, "you're staying here. We need all the help we can get in rebuilding and tending to the wounded, and you need time to recover." Kikuchiyo's fuzzy awareness instantly sharpened when he heard this.

"Re….Recover?" he asked, glancing at the little girl perched at his side. She didn't look at him, her face furious as she stared at her sister, tears streaming from her wide eyes.

"I don't need to recover!" she snapped, waving her arms in anger. "I'm fine! Kiku's the one who needs help now!"

"Wha-at's wrong… wi-ith y…you, Sprout?" His voice was horribly weak, and there was so much static even he had trouble discerning his own words. Komachi's glare faltered, and her mouth curled miserably. He realized now that the sadness he saw on her young face was tinged with pain. How could he have not realized she was hurt? Kirara made an impatient noise.

"Komachi broke her ankle in a fall, and she's been cut pretty badly on her back," said the water priestess. "She needs rest and healing; she can't travel to Hogakyo." A new pain shot through Kikuchiyo when he heard this news. Komachi was hurt, and she hadn't let him know. Komachi shook her head, her breathing now becoming hiccups.

"I'm fine, Sister! I'll be fine with Kambei and Momataro. I need to stay with Kiku!" A cloud of steam escaped Kikuchiyo's ruptured vents.

"You…m-most cer-cer-tainly will n…not," he said harshly, giving a cough that jarred his entire damaged frame. Masamune made a disapproving sound and bustled over to the end of the cart where Kikuchiyo's head lay.

"Don't overexcite yourself, Kiku," he said sharply, typing in some commands on his hand-held remote. "I'm going to have to put you down pretty quick here. Let's break this little fest up and be on our way." Komachi let out a wail and collapsed onto Kikuchiyo's chest, careful to avoid touching his gaping wounds, and wept uncontrollably.

"Don't leave without me, Kiku!" she begged, curling her fingers to grip his torn jacket. "Please, I have to come with you. I need to make sure you're okay!" Kikuchiyo let out some more steam, but it was in exhaustion rather than anger. He craned his head around to face her and laboriously lifted his remaining hand to settle on her cheek, cupping the back of her head in his fingers—she was so small. Komachi gasped and looked at him, her eyes shining and puffy.

"I'm…n-not l-leaving for ev-er, Sp-rout," he grated, gently stroking her hair with his thumb. "I'm just….g-going to-o ge-et fixed u…up." Komachi's bottom lip trembled.

"Please, Kiku," she whimpered, hiccupping and reaching up to touch his hand with hers. Kikuchiyo shook his head once from side to side. The movement sent searing jolts of pain down his neck and back.

"I p…pro-mise, I'll be-be back re-eal soon." He coughed. "I've got-t to c-ome back….Y-you s-said we w-ere gonna get hi-hitched on-one day, right?" Komachi nodded, closing her eyes against the tears. "A-nd you…you've st-ill got m…my family tree sc-scroll, right?" She nodded again. "Go-od. The…Then I'll be ba-ack for s…sure. C…Count on it." Masamune leaned forward, catching Kikuchiyo's attention.

"Sorry, Kiku, but time's up. I'm going to have to put you in stasis now." He glanced at Komachi. "Say your good-byes." Komachi looked frantically to Kikuchiyo, gripping his hand to her cheek.

"Promise you'll come back, Kiku," she begged, leaning in and touching her forehead to his. He sighed and nodded, wincing.

"I pro-promise, kid-do; now…y-you be g…good."

The last thing he saw was Komachi's shining eye as she kissed him on the cheek, and everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 1: The Return

Sorry this chapter took so long...homework and you know. I changed the rating from T to M because things are going to get a little complicated down the line, nothing to racy or gruesome, but I just want to be safe. There plenty more to come, I assure you. All Samurai 7 stuff belongs to their owners.

Oil and Water

Chapter 1: The Return

Kikuchiyo dreamed of her again. He dreamed her back was turned to him, and she was saying something, something he couldn't catch. She sounded angry. The vision cut out, and a great creaking, grinding sound roared in his brain.

Kikuchiyo gasped and his visor flew open, bringing him back to reality. It took a moment for his visual field to adjust, but his surroundings soon sharpened to comprehensive focus. He was in the mechanic's garage in Hogakyo, still strapped to a vertical stretcher. An IV was hooked to the liquid line in his left arm, feeding him water and nutrients. He craned his head around, looking for the mechanic to ask him what that horrible noise was. A small clatter sounded to his left, and he switched his gaze over to the engine pump lying in the corner of the garage. The mechanic was hunched over it, muttering under his breath, reaching for the wrench he had dropped to the side. Kikuchiyo blew out some steam from his vents, disappointment stabbing him in the gut.

"Hey, Mifu-kun; how much longer are you gonna make me wait?" the mech samurai snapped. The mechanic straightened up and turned around, a sheepish grin on his face. The disappointment Kikuchiyo felt wasn't exactly placed at the young man grinning at him from across the room. Old man Masamune had passed away nearly three years ago, but the loss of him still felt fresh in Kikuchiyo's mind. The man had literally worked himself to death, though not as violently as the notion sounded. He had simply died in his sleep, slumped over his work table and blueprints, trying to figure out how to speed Kikuchiyo's repair and recovery along. His nephew, Mifune, had taken over as soon as the old man was buried in the family cemetery outside of Hogakyo. Kikuchiyo had been astounded at the young man's resolve; sure, he'd seen Mifune observe and train under Masamune, but never had he expected the mechanic apprentice to take up his uncle's work with such ready gusto. When Kikuchiyo asked him what he was so frantic for, Mifune simply replied,

"Masamune-ojisan started this; I'm going to finish it."

Mifune worked tirelessly on the rest of Kikuchiyo's repairs for the next three years, finishing the work that his uncle had started thirteen years previously. He worked at a quicker pace and with more nimble hands than the old man had, but he always needed to stop to consult notes and blueprints to help him along. He asked a doctor friend of his to help treat Kikuchiyo's slow-healing injuries to his human body, until he was pronounced stable enough to heal on his own. Mifune then doubled his efforts to improve and repair the systems that linked Kikuchiyo's mechanic body with his human body. With Masamune having already refitted the mech with new legs and a new right arm, Mifune could concentrate on the finer details. Kikuchiyo waited through his recovery by the very skin of his sanity; he would never admit it to Mifune, nor had he ever to the old man, but spending sixteen years strapped to a vertical stretcher while his body was slowly refurbished was enough to nearly drive the samurai over the edge. The only thing that kept Kikuchiyo from going insane all those sixteen years were the memories he pulled from his databanks, the ones from his days as a farmer and of his days as a samurai. He lost himself in the visions, committing them to the forefront of his mind. He relived his life, from childhood to near death, dozens of times during his sixteen-year recovery. When he eventually grew tired of the same memories, Kikuchiyo began to think about the future, devoting all the conscious energy he could while awake to imagine what his life would become once his repairs were done. He knew the first thing he'd do once he could walk again was head out of Hogakyo and make his way back to Kanna village. It was the only place left in this world he really felt he could call home, since his village was gone and his people dead. He wanted to instate himself as the village's permanent protector, since no other village would be likely to accept a metal samurai. He couldn't go back to his life as a farmer, but at least he could lift heavy things. His thoughts of the future often turned to Komachi, the little ray of sunshine he'd left behind to recover in the city. As the years past, he found it difficult to imagine what she looked like, how she might have aged. He was sure she'd be a looker; a girl that cute would have to grow up to be a beauty. Would she be tall? Would she keep her hair short or grow it out like her sister? What would her voice sound like? Kikuchiyo sometimes wondered if she would even want to see him when he returned. He had promised her he would come back as soon as he was well enough, and he'd had Masamune and Mifune take down dictations for letters to be sent to Kanna by way of the turtle express every month. They didn't have paper or pencils in the humble village so all of Komachi's return letters were written on a piece of cloth or rice packing. Over the course of the sixteen-year recovery, Komachi's grammar and syntax went from the disjointed scribbling of a six-year-old to the elegant scriptures of a young lady. However, no matter the subject of the letter or the point of writing education the girl was at, Komachi always enclosed her letters with the same three words:

_Miss you love._

"I miss you too," Kikuchiyo would always say after reading the letters. He'd say it even if Masamune or Mifune were in the room. They got used to it pretty quickly.

Kikuchiyo fixed Mifune with an impatient glare, or at least what could be called a glare from his metal face. Mifune laughed and scratched the back of his head with his wrench.

"So, how much longer?" Kikuchiyo demanded, puffing a small cloud of steam out his head vent. Today was the day; the day he had been waiting and agonizing over. Today was the day Kikuchiyo's sixteen years' worth of repairs would finally be finished. In just a few moments he would be free, free to walk on his own two feet, free to swing his sword with the force to chop down an oak tree, free to leave this overcrowded, overblown city and return to the place where his heart truly belonged. Most would have said they couldn't believe it had really taken sixteen years to fix everything that had been damaged in the battle to save Kanna, but Kikuchiyo didn't bother thinking such a thing; he certainly could believe it. Mifune heaved himself to his feet and crossed the room to a small control panel set into the wall beside Kikuchiyo's vertical gurney. He tugged off his work gloves and checked the readings on the panel. All of the meters were at the correct level, and pressure from the electrical and steam junctions was built to a ready point.

"Okay, all systems ready for power up," said the mechanic, wiggling his fingers. He glanced up at Kikuchiyo. "You ready, Kiku-san?" Kikuchiyo let out an excited roar, steam exploding from his vents.

"Kid, I was ready five years ago!" he bellowed. "You're the one who decided to stretch out the repairs for that much longer! Now come on, start me up already!" Mifune grinned, then turned back to the panel.

"Alright then." His fingers closed around the handle of a thick lever in the middle of the panel. "Here we go." He tensed his shoulder, and then yanked the lever down, hard.

A great bolt of energy arched up from a cable outlet in the floor and made its way up the wall, racing along the right angles and circuitry of the grid. The cable junction funneled the energy up the wall, across the ceiling and back down towards the antenna fixed to the top of Kikuchiyo's gurney. The antenna sparked, and Kikuchiyo suddenly felt himself bombarded by high-powered electricity. He roared and arched from the gurney, his limbs twitching and his systems reeling with the power. His visual field cut out for a moment while his central power core absorbed the electricity and shot it into both his central nervous system and central wiring. Steam hissed out of every vent in his head and neck, and his heart skipped a couple of beats to try and negotiate a proper rhythm with his pacemaker. Mifune threw the lever back to its starting position, gritting his teeth as his hair stood on end from the excess electricity. Kikuchiyo cried out as his systems overloaded for a moment, and then the electricity died down, and he slumped in his straps, his head hanging down.

Mifune cut the power to the grid and shut down all the valves, then rushed over to check on his metal patient. Kikuchiyo's visual visor was shut, and his breathing was shallow. Mifune bit his lip, hoping he hadn't overdone it on the electricity output. "Kiku-san, you okay?" he asked. When the mech samurai didn't respond, he reached up to tap him on the helm. Before his finger reached it, however, Kikuchiyo's head whipped up and he let out a triumphant howl, startling Mifune so badly he jumped a full three feet back. The poor young mechanic tripped over his own heels and landed flat on his backside. Kikuchiyo let out a cloud of steam, whooping with glee.

"Now that was a power surge!" he laughed heartily, straightening up. "Way to go, Mifu-kun, you're a genius! I feel 100% again!" Mifune grinned and rolled to his feet, wincing at his possibly bruised rump. He dusted himself off and approached the gurney, looking the mech samurai up and down.

"You look fine, don't think I singed anything," he said, nodding approvingly. He reached up to the straps holding Kikuchiyo's left arm in place, intending to undo it. Kikuchiyo thrashed around.

"No, no, don't bother yourself, Mifu-kun!" he protested, waving at the young man with his hand to back away. Mifune looked at him curiously. "Just step back. I wanna test out my new strength!" Mifune realized what the samurai meant only a second before he did it. He yelped and jumped back again as Kikuchiyo flexed his robotic arms with a great mighty heave. The leather straps creaked as they strained against the pressure, but they were no match against the mech's steam-powered hydraulic muscles. With a loud _riiiippp_, the leather straps around Kikuchiyo's forearms, wrists, and shoulders tore in half against the force from his new-powered body. The samurai let out a triumphant shout of laughter. "Ha! Now that's more like it!" He flexed his legs next, pushing up and forward with his great knee joints. The leather securing his ankles and thighs were mercilessly split in half with another great ripping noise. Kikuchiyo roared with laughter, reveling in the return of his old power. Momentarily forgetting he was suspended a couple feet up the wall, he reached down and savagely shredded the two thick straps encircling his torso, freeing him from the gurney and sending him crashing to the ground. "Whoa!" The mighty samurai landed in a crumpled heap onto the stone floor, smacking his metal face with a painful crack. "Ouch! Dammit!" Mifune quickly ran to his patient's side and helped him to his feet. However, Kikuchiyo immediately found himself nearly tumbling back to the ground, his legs wobbling horribly under his bulk. He hadn't realized how weak he would be once he was finally let off the gurney.

"I should have warned you to take it easy," said Mifune, helping Kikuchiyo to lean back against the gurney while he waited for his head to stop spinning. "You haven't carried your own weight in sixteen years; even mechanical bodies can get atrophied after that much time spent immobile. Plus, you haven't had a chance to use your new legs." Kikuchiyo didn't want to admit it, but he knew the young mechanic was right. He had been strapped to that gurney for six years and a decade, before which he had been basically brought back from the dead. He should have known he couldn't just expect to be able to stand up and walk again. He still had human muscles attached to his metal limbs; how could they not be weak after lying around doing nothing for sixteen years?"

"It's not your fault, Mifu-kun," said Kikuchiyo, giving the young man a hearty thump on his back, which nearly knocked the wind out of him. "I just got a bit carried away…hadn't realized what sixteen years strapped to a wall could do to a guy." Mifune coughed and patted the samurai's arm.

"Don't worry about it," he said kindly. He turned to Kikuchiyo's right arm and beckoned for him to hand it to him. "Let me just take your IV out, then we can make sure everything's working right."

After Mifune removed the IV then cleaned and wrapped the puncture mark from the shunt, he asked Kikuchiyo to do a series of careful movements to check the functioning of his limbs. Kikuchiyo had to use the wall for support while he rotated his arm, shoulder, elbow, and wrist joints, lifted his legs and bent his knees, twisted his head from side to side and rotated his torso around a couple of times, moving slowly and deliberately so as not to strain anything. He was unbelievably stiff, and his joints and ligaments creaked and cracked like nothing else. Still, it was good to feel his muscles and wires flex and stretch beneath his armor plating. He winced when he bent his torso, his ribs, both metal and bone, throbbing at the pressure and movement.

"What the…?" The pain caught him off guard and put him slightly out of breath. Mifune grunted, scratching his chin.

"That'll be the ribs, I guess," he said, running an x-ray scan over Kikuchiyo's thoracic cavity. "Sorry about that; I'm afraid they're still healing. The wiring in your internal cavities was pretty badly damaged and had to be replaced a couple of times, so your systems never really got the chance to run repairs or help your immune response. Your organs are probably still sensitive too." Kikuchiyo groaned, slumping back against the gurney and crossing his arms over his chest. Luckily his armor prevented any pressure on his tender ribs.

"Just my luck," the mech muttered. "I'm finally ready to be discharged and I've still got some recovering to do. Sixteen years and I'm still paying for all that I did. That's total crap." Mifune chuckled again.

"You're lucky Kiku-san," he said, crossing over to the other side of the room and pulling something out from behind a metal beam. "Your insides are probably just bruised by now, blood and oil pooling and all that. You could have lost quite a lot of them." Kikuchiyo snorted, not buying it. Mifune shook his head, still smiling. He hauled something tall and wheeled out into the open of the room to halt in front of the samurai, then walked over and gave Kikuchiyo another pat on the arm. "Don't worry about it. All you need is to take it easy for a few weeks. No sword swinging or jumping off of airships. I'll get you a crutch to lean on too while your legs strengthen." Kikuchiyo gave him an incredulous look.

"Crutches? Are you kidding me? I'm a samurai, not a nobleman. I don't need crutches!" Mifune gave him an even look.

"I said a crutch," he retorted, turning away to retrieve something from his work table, "as in singular. Just something to lean on." He glanced back and nodded at the thing in front of Kikuchiyo. "That's a mirror, by the way. I thought you might want to look at the new you."

Kikuchiyo caught sight of the mirror, which he hadn't noticed since it was covered by a tarp. 'New me?' It was true he hadn't seen himself in any kind of reflected surface since awakening from stasis in the garage sixteen years ago. He hadn't wanted to see himself then, since he was sure he looked a wreck. He'd never asked for a mirror during the repairs either, having spent the more extensive procedures either delirious or in a memory. The prospect of his appearance just seemed to fade with time, his anticipation of seeing Kanna, and Komachi, again obscuring it. Now, he was nearly overwhelmed by his sudden curiosity. Kikuchiyo reached out and pulled the tarp off of the mirror, careful not to pull too hard lest he knock the thing over.

Kikuchiyo stared at his reflection, taken aback. He looked…different; really different. His old jacket, which had been burned nearly to a crisp when he sliced the capitol in half, had been replaced. His new jacket was the same size and cut, but it was green and black instead of white and orange. His shirt was still red, but it now had a black X on it, matching his black pants and red boots. His new legs seemed to be slimmer, more toned in mechanical muscle, as did his waist and his rear when he turned around to look at it, making his pants seem baggier than before. His gut was gone and his shirt was tighter, making his broad shoulders look triangular and sharp. His head and helm were still red, but his bottom jaw had been replaced with a smaller, more angular version, more like a human jaw, a little higher above his neck guard. His shoulder plates were gone. The right half of his helm-horn was gone, having been blown off by the crash. A great silver weld ran down the center of his face from the right corner of his helm to the left corner of his upper jaw, a scar from where the severed prow of the airship struck him. Most of his hair was gone, probably burnt off in the explosion. The two lengths that had hung down by the sides of his face were gone, and his mane had been trimmed down to just below his neck. Kikuchiyo pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to look at his new right arm. It was red, just like the last one, but it was designed a little differently, like a thick armored gauntlet. Kikuchiyo let out a sigh; he looked…younger, more human, even though he was probably more machine than he had been before.

Mifune stepped beside the mech samurai, gazing at their two reflections.

"Sorry if it's too drastic," he said, glancing at the real samurai and then back at his image. "Masamune-ojisan said you were pretty torn up when he first brought you in here. He told me when I started working here that you'd need a major overhaul, including cosmetically. I wish there had been more I could do to keep you the way you were, but you lost more than we could put back in." He laughed bitterly. "Bet you're thinking I made you look more like a ronin than a samurai."

"Thank-you," said Kikuchiyo softly, still staring into the mirror. Mifune looked up at him, surprised. Kikuchiyo turned a little bit to see himself from a different angle. "I look…better. I'm not so hulky anymore." He laughed. "I might even be able to farm rice again, although I'm still the same size." He traced the silver scar on his face. "I guess that couldn't be helped, but that's okay; it looks tough. A real samurai has tons of battle scars!" He clapped Mifune on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "Great job Mifu-kun! The old man would be proud of you." Even as he said it Kikuchiyo felt a tiny twinge of sadness again; he wished Masamune could have at least seen how much his hard work had helped him, not just saved his life. Mifune smiled.

"Thanks Kiku-san," he said, clasping the samurai's hand in his. "I really think you're going to be fine. Now, let's see about that sword of yours, and then we'll get you that crutch."

Kikuchiyo stood on the very edge of Hogakyo, the threshold of the city's towering main gates. He held his new chainsaw-sword propped against his left shoulder like he always used to, while leaning heavily on a metal crutch made out of iron and Plexiglas. Mifune had found a crutch specifically designed for people with mecha bodies, and he'd given him the sword after flagrantly explaining all the trouble he'd gone through to get one forged exactly like his old one. Even though he knew the young man was showing off, Kikuchiyo had still felt a pour of graditude for him. Their parting had been heartfelt, Kikuchiyo pulling the mechanic into a bone-cracking one-armed hug and thanking him for all of his help. Mifune assured him that he was always welcome in his garage, since his uncle would have flayed him if he'd refused. He also told Kikuchiyo that he'd sent a letter ahead to Kanna announcing his imminent return, so the villagers would know of his arrival before he reached their territory. The thoughtful gesture had sent Kikuchiyo into a flurry of loud, oily sobs, and found Mifune in yet another painful hug. When the samurai finally set out into the crowded streets of Hogakyo, Mifune found himself missing the noisy mech almost as soon as he disappeared into the masses.

Now, as Kikuchiyo gazed out onto the well-worn trading road that would eventually lead to the desert, and ultimately Kanna village, he allowed himself a moment of pensive thought. He was finally going back, back to the place where he felt at home, to the village he had once risked his life to save. He wondered if any of the other samurai had returned to Kanna over the years, or if he would be the only one. He wondered if he would meet any of them along the way, debating whether or not he should stop at Firefly House for a cup of tea with Shirouji and his lady. He wondered if the Shikimoribito would mind if he used their caves for a short cut like he and the others had done all those years before. He wondered if the people of Kanna would welcome his return…

Kikuchiyo inhaled deeply. His mind turned to Komachi again. What would she do when she saw him? Would she be happy? Would she be angry? Did she hate him for leaving and not coming back for so long? He knew she'd always signed her letters with love, but what if she didn't really mean it? What if she did; then what? Kikuchiyo let out his breath. Komachi would be twenty-two by now, a young woman; why would she possibly have feelings for him? She'd been a little girl when they'd parted, when he'd promised to be her husband when she grew up. Would she still expect him to keep that promise? Or, would she even want him to? What if she had married someone else? What would he do if she did?

'Well, just asking about it won't do anything about it,' he told himself, fixing his visor forward towards the horizon. Kikuchiyo hefted his sword again, and started walking.

In Kanna village, a warm breeze ruffled the greening rice fields, making a rattling noise from the stalks rubbing together. The rice had yet to bend, so it was still a couple of months before the harvest. The sky was clear and the hair was humid and clean, birdsong winding in and about the breeze. A lone figure kneeled in the grass next to an irrigation trench, a dowsing crystal hanging from the wristband she held out over the soil. The young woman raised her head up, eyes closed, as the wind swept her short brown hair around her face and at her neck. The air carried the scent of change. The girl put her delicate hands together and muttered a prayer under her breath.

"Please, let today be the day," she whispered, her voice carried away by the wind. Her crystal shimmered with lavender light. There was a light footstep behind her, and the young woman turned her head before the visitor had even begun to speak.

"Komachi, dear," said another woman, approaching the water priestess from the west. Komachi opened her eyes and smiled up at the woman, taking in her every aspect in a single glance. The woman's face was kind and gentle, but there was a slight weariness weighing on her brow. Her belly was rotund with pregnancy, making her blue and white peasant's kimono billow out around her legs in the wind. The woman's right hand rested on her bump, and she stood with her back bent back and her feet planted apart. A smile curved the woman's delicate mouth, and her eyes were sparkling. Komachi rose from the ground and walked to meet her visitor, not wanting to make her trudge out any further than she needed to.

"I'm glad to see you're out and about, onee-chan," she said brightly, taking the woman's hand in both of hers. "Does this mean you're doing better?" Kirara nodded, her smile broadening.

"I'm feeling much better, thank-you," she said. She gave Komachi's hand a squeeze. "But that's not why I'm here. I have wonderful news." Komachi raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah? What about?" she asked. Kirara reached inside her collar and pulled out a folded piece of paper, holding tight to it so it wouldn't be caught

up by the breeze. Komachi's eyes locked onto the note, her heart quickening.

"Is that…?" she asked, not taking her eyes off of the paper. Kirara giggled and unfolded the piece of paper. She lifted it up and read its contents out loud.

_Dear Madam Kirara and Lady Komachi,_

_I'm happy to announce that your old friend Kikuchiyo has finally been fully repaired and is clear to leave my garage. I'll be releasing him from the IV and power support today, and by the time you get this letter he'll probably already be on his way to Kanna. He intends to head directly to your village, and is looking forward to seeing you all again. I've enjoyed spending time working on him, and I know my uncle did too. I'm very proud of Kiku, and I'm sure you will be when you see him in a week. Thank you for your support, and the best of luck to all of you in Kanna._

_Mifune Takashi_

Komachi inhaled deeply. She barely registered what Kirara said to her when she finished reading the letter, but she knew her sister's exclamations of joy and excitement couldn't possibly measure up to what she felt inside now. This was it; after all these years of waiting and praying, it was finally happening.

Kikuchiyo was coming home.


	3. Chapter 2: The Reunion

Quick note: sorry if any of you don't like the changes I've made to Kikuchiyo's wardrobe or appearance; it's not that I didn't like the way he originally looked, it's just that I thought it would make sense if he'd had to be slightly remodeled after nearly being blown up. Also for the sake of the story I wanted him to be just a teensy weensy bit more human-like...you'll see why later o_0. If you want, you can just imagine him like he used to be.

Oil and Water

Chapter 2: The Reunion

Kikuchiyo huffed loudly as he lumbered up the crest of yet another hill. His legs creaked and he leaned heavily on his metal crutch, each step seeming more of an effort than the last. He didn't understand why this hill had to be so much more of a chore than the last several had been; maybe because he could smell the rice fields from here and he knew how close he was to Kanna now. He'd crossed out of the desert and into the woodlands almost two days ago, and yet now of all times he was feeling fatigue. Maybe his anticipation was getting the better of him, maybe the universe wanted to delay him just a little bit more. Either way, this hill was driving him crazy.

Kikuchiyo nearly lost his balance as his foot came down onto flat ground. He grunted and stumbled forward a few feet, wincing at the jab of pain in his chest. When he looked up again he felt his breath catch in his metal throat. Endless farmland stretched out before him, starting from the bottom of the hill and continuing to the mountains where the earth and the clear sky met. The smell of fresh water and rice paddies filled the air, and Kikuchiyo breathed in a nice lung's worth. God, he missed that smell. He glanced down at the base of the hill and caught sight of Wing Rock, the marker for Kanna territory. The samurai couldn't help but whoop in joy, thrusting a fist into the air. He was nearly home; just another mile or two.

Komachi knelt before the two stone grave sites, marking the resting places for two of the seven samurai that had saved her village: Gorobei on the left and Kyuzou on the right. She laid a plate of rice at the foot of each grave and clasped her hands together, eyes closed and chin tilted downward. She thanked them for what they had done and told them that the village was prospering. A small smile curved the edges of her mouth.

"Kiku's coming home," she said quietly, smiling up at Gorobei's gravestone. "After all these years, he's finally well enough to come back to us." 'Back to me,' she thought to herself. Her smile faltered a bit. The news that Kikuchiyo was returning to Kanna was, of course, the best news she had received in a long time, but while it filled Komachi's heart with joy, it also gave her a strange sense of anxiety.

During the first four years after the final battle with the capitol, Kanna village received no word of Kikuchiyo's fate, neither by mail nor by the other samurai. Komachi, ten years old at the time, thought for sure the lack of news meant that Kikuchiyo had died from his injuries, and she would never see her big metal friend again. The dejected girl threw herself into her training to be a water priestess, blocking anyone's support or comfort, including her sister's. But then, a couple months after her tenth birthday, Komachi received the first letter from Hogakyo, a short note from Kikuchiyo's mechanic. It read that Kikuchiyo had finally come out of stasis, and his repairs were going well. Her friend was alive; Komachi's heart had soared. With Kirara's help Komachi wrote a reply, a simple, not very grammatically correct reply, and sent it off to Hogakyo via turtle express. She'd been in such a hurry to send her letter that Komachi forgot to sign her name, so instead of saying, "Miss you, love Komachi," the letter read, "Miss you love". It had been a silly mistake, a mistake of an excited ten-year-old. Still, Kikuchiyo's next letter said that he thought the little closing was cute, and he sent his love as well. The simple closing became Komachi's signature, and she used it on every letter over the next twelve years. However, as she matured, the meaning behind the closing became somewhat muddled. Komachi never forgot what she had asked Kikuchiyo to do for her before the final battle. When he had handed her his family tree scroll, she promised to keep it for him if he promised to be her husband when she grew up. He'd been so overwhelmed with emotion that oily tears had poured down Kikuchiyo's metal face. He agreed, whole-heartedly and completely. He had reminded her of that promise before he was taken away to be repaired. Komachi kept his scroll tucked under her pillow as a reminder of the promises they made to each other.

Now, sixteen years later, Komachi wondered back on the promise, as she had so many times since receiving word of Kikuchiyo's imminent return. She had made the request when she was only six, when the idea of marriage and love had been so simple. People got married when they loved each other, right? When adults loved each other, they got married. Kikuchiyo was a mecha; he didn't age. He would be the same age when she was twenty-two as when she was six. She loved him when she was a little girl; why shouldn't she love him when she was an adult? But now Komachi knew what marriage was, what being husband and wife meant. She knew how love worked, or at least how it should work. She'd never been with anyone, not as a teenager and not now as a young adult. Her sister Kirara was in love once, but she was rejected by that love, and eventually married someone else…. Komachi thought hard on that one. Kirara met Tetsuo five years after the battle with the capital. He was a farmer from a neighboring village that came to Kanna looking for a place to call his own. He was a kind man, handsome, and had taken to Kirara almost immediately. He asked for her to be his wife after three years of knowing each other, and to this day Komachi never understood why her sister had agreed. It was obvious she didn't love Tetsuo, or at least not the way she had loved Kambei Shimada. Even though he had flat-out told her he could never love her, Kirara would forever have a part of her heart devoted to loving the stoic samurai. Why then had she agreed to marry Tetsuo? Komachi had asked her sister many times why she had gone through with such an arrangement, but her reply was always the same,

"It would be poor of me to wait for someone who doesn't intend to return." But Komachi knew no matter how much Kirara denied it; she could never forget her feelings for Kambei. She was carrying Tetsuo's second child (their first child was born a year after their marriage), but Komachi could tell she still wished the child was Kambei's. Komachi wondered what kind of fate she would face in the matters of love. She never found herself taken with any of the young men in the village, not even a little bit. As a teenager, when all the girls swooned over the growth of Keiji or Sora, she felt nothing. Was it because she was a priestess? Did holding such a position make one immune to the need for intimacy that came to other girls her age? But, that couldn't be so. Every time she read Kikuchiyo's letters, her heart quickened, and her cheeks grew flush. Even now, as she sat in front of Gorobei's and Kyuzou's graves, the thought of Kikuchiyo returning made her heart flutter, and her stomach grew tight with anticipation. She touched a hand to her cheek; the skin beneath her fingers was hot. Is this what the other girls felt when they saw one of the young men working in the fields? Is this what Kirara felt all those times she had stared at Kambei? Maybe the hopeful adulation she'd felt as a child had turned into something more over the years….Maybe she….

"Hey, Komachi-chan!" Komachi started, pulled out of her musings by the enthusiastic voice coming from behind her. She looked over her shoulder. A young man in Kanna peasant-wear jogged up the hill to stand beside her, his face slightly flushed with exertion. He had shaggy black hair, skin that was pale for a rice farmer, and strong, chiseled features. Komachi smiled up at him. It was Takao, one of the plow brothers from the lower village He and Komachi had been friends since late childhood.

Takao sat down next to Komachi, grinning from ear to ear. "How're you doing? You're up here awfully early." Komachi giggled and nodded to the two grave sites.

"I'm just saying hello to Gorobei-san and Kyuzou-san." She meant to tell him how excited she was that Kikuchiyo was returning to the village, but for some reason the courage to do so quickly escaped her. Takao shrugged, still grinning, then suddenly stood up and offered a hand to her.

"Walk with me?" he asked. Komachi raised her eyebrows, surprised, but nodded and took his hand anyway.

Komachi and Takao strolled down the hill from the graves and into the woods along the rice fields, chatting about nothing in particular. Komachi commented on how the air had the scent of water on it, which meant they could expect rain in a couple of days; Takao replied how wet ground would mean easier plowing, but it could potentially harm the rice stalks. As they walked, Komachi noticed Takao seemed oddly fidgety; he kept glancing at her and then looking away, his cheeks flushing. It was almost as if he wanted to tell her something, but was either too nervous or too excited to say it. She wondered why he would feel the need to keep whatever it was from her, since they'd always been able to talk freely in the past, but then she remembered her reluctance to voice her excitement at Kikuchiyo's imminent return. So, Komachi decided that maybe if she shared these feelings with Takao, he'd be more comfortable with sharing whatever was on his mind.

Takao halted when he saw the smile on Komachi's face. He smiled too, but she could tell he was only smiling because she was.

"What?" the youth asked. Komachi put her hands together, beaming.

"Did you hear the news?" she asked, her voice shrill with anticipation. Takao looked at her from out the corner of his eye, his smile turning into a sideways smirk.

"What news?" he asked back. Komachi giggled and bounced up and down a bit. Now that she was ready to talk about it, she couldn't keep her exhilaration from spilling out.

"Kikuchiyo is finally coming back!" she exclaimed, giving in to her extreme joy and flinging her arms around Takao. The young man gasped in surprise, blushing furiously.

"Kiku-who?" he asked, rocking back on his heels with the force of Komachi's hug. Komachi giggled again and released Takao, not noticing him flinging his arms down from their half-curled position.

"Kikuchiyo, silly boy," she laughed, using her pet name for him. "You know; he was one of the seven samurai that saved our village sixteen years ago! He nearly died destroying the capital before it crushed the village." Her face grew sad for a moment. "He's been in Hogakyo recovering and having repairs done on him. But now he's all better, and he's coming back here, to Kanna!" Her smile instantly returned and she hopped up and down on the spot, clapping her hands together. The elation she'd first felt from reading Mifune's letter was doubled now that she allowed herself to feel it for what it was. Takao gave her a look that seemed both confused and annoyed.

"You mean that metal samurai with the huge sword?" he asked, putting his hands on his hips, "The loud obnoxious one? I thought he was dead." Komachi gasped and shook her head vigorously, not wanting to think about that terrible time in her late childhood where she had thought the same thing.

"No, oh no! He almost died, but his mechanic saved him. He's all repaired now, and he's coming back!" Her grin broadened, and she was surprised to feel her eyes starting to water. Takao looked alarmed at her sudden tears. He put his hands on her shoulders, his eyes wide with concern.

"What's wrong? Are you scared of him? I know I'd be." Her smile darkened and she stared at him, frowning slightly. That had hurt her.

"Scared? Why would I be scared of Kiku? He's my best friend!" Takao looked hurt.

"What do you mean? I thought I was your best friend, and Okara-chan too." Komachi's smile returned and she patted him on the arm.

"Of course you two are my best friends. I meant…well I mean…Kiku and I were best friends during the war. He protected me, and I was the first one who saw him as a samurai. He was my guardian." She didn't tell him about the promises the two of them had made each other when they last parted; that was private. Takao frowned in annoyance again; Komachi didn't understand why he kept doing that.

"Well, if you haven't seen him in sixteen years, then why should it matter?" he said, a little harshly. "He left when you were a little girl. You can't stay friends with someone who's not around for that long." Komachi shook her head.

"No, we still are. He and I have been writing letters to each other back and forth for the last six years. We're still best friends." She smiled fondly, thinking off somewhere else. "I've missed him so much; I can't wait to see him." Takao still looked skeptical, so she gave him a slap on the back. "You and Kiku will get along great, silly boy; I just know it."

Just then, there came a shout from down the forest path up from the village.

"Komachi! Takao-kun! There you are!" Komachi and Takao looked around to see Okara running up the path towards them, wildly waving her arms about. Komachi grinned at her other childhood friend. Okara had grown up to be just as much a tomboy of a young woman as she had been when she was a little girl. Her sandals and leg wrappings were dirty, she had a smudge on her nose, and her dark messy hair was unraveling from under her hat. Her sister Chisa's baby was strapped to her back, snoozing despite the bumpy ride. Okara reached them quickly, a snigger in her throat and mischievous smile on her scrubby face.

"What are you smiling at?" Takao snapped, crossing his arms in irritation at being interrupted. Okara snickered again, her smirk curving higher up her cheek.

"You're never going to believe this," she said slyly, turning to Komachi and looking like she had the biggest, best secret in the world. Komachi leaned forward expectantly, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Okara kept sniggering for a moment, then pointed back down the path toward the village.

"Someone just blew into town, someone you really wouldn't expect to seeeee!" She gave Komachi a teasing nudge. Komachi's eyes widened.

"Wait," she said slowly, her eyes starting to sparkle. "You don't mean…?" Okara gave a laughing shout and punched the air.

"Kiku's back!" she said triumphantly. "The big machine himself is back in Kanna village! He just arrived, and he looks great!" Komachi squealed in delight. She and Okara grabbed each other's hands and jumped up and down, laughing hysterically while Takao just stared in disbelief.

"He's here….already?" he choked, looking as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"Kiku's back! I can't believe it!" Komachi cried, twirling around like a carefree five-year old. Her eyes widened again, and she gasped. "I have to go see him! He's back! Oh, Kiku!" Without another word, the young water priestess took off down the road. Okara quickly followed her, not even bothering to see if Takao was coming. The young man stood alone in the middle of the forest for a few moments, his jaw slack, dumbfounded at having been so overtaken by a stranger's arrival.

"Hey, look! It's Kikuchiyo-sama!"

"It's the great samurai who saved our village!"

"Kikuchiyo-sama has returned!"

Kikuchiyo wasn't sure if he should feel guilty for enjoying the attention he got when he finally entered the Kanna village front gates. All around, every man, woman, and child dropped what they were doing and looked on in awe as the mech samurai lumbered through their village, leaning heavily on his metal crutch and lugging his great sword over his right shoulder. Those who had witnessed or participated in the great battle sixteen years ago called words of welcome and praise to Kikuchiyo as he passed, their faces bright and their voices friendly. Those who were too young to remember the battle or had moved into the village afterwards simply watched him, some surprised, some adumbrative, some even a little afraid. The children of the village ran forward and followed Kikuchiyo in packs, their little eyes wide with wonder, many of them having never seen a metal samurai before. By the time Kikuchiyo reached the village center a sizeable crowd had gathered to see the returning hero, some keeping their distance but many feeling comfortable with coming up to the samurai and offering their greetings and welcomes. Kikuchiyo halted in the village center and gazed out at the lake of tan, weather-beaten faces. They were happy to see him, which was more than he could have hoped for.

Kikuchiyo stuck his sword in the ground with a huff, then raised his hands up above his head. The gathered crowd of villagers quieted down, eager to hear what the machine samurai had to say.

"Good morning, Kanna village!" Kikuchiyo boomed, raising cheers and applause from the rice farmers. He laughed. "It's been a long time since I've been back here, in this beautiful village; a long time. Sorry I didn't come to visit more often, but my repairs and recuperation were pretty extensive. I only just received a clean bill of health a few days ago." Cheers sounded again, and a few villagers raised their own voices to reply.

"You've been missed, Kikuchiyo-sama!"

"We worried for you, great samurai!"

"It's so good to see you alive and well!" Kikuchiyo waved around to those who had spoken, a warm tingle lifting in his abdomen.

"It's great to be back, everyone; so great to be back among my own people and lifestyle, even though I wasn't born in this village."

"You're always welcome here, great samurai." Kikuchiyo turned around to see a straight-backed mid-life man striding towards him to the front of the crowd. The man's face was slightly lined, more from sun weathering than actual aging, but his body was strong and broad. His short reddish-brown hair was cropped short in the back and slightly longer in the front, and he had a small goatee of brown on his chin. His eyes were kindly, a warm smile crossing his face as he beheld the samurai. He looked familiar…Kikuchiyo gasped.

"Rikichi!" he cried, hobbling forward as fast as he could and wrapping the man in a tight hug. Rikichi coughed as the mech's metal arms knocked the wind out of him, but he embraced his old friend graciously before stepping back to survey him.

"You look great, Kikuchiyo-sama," he said, grinning up at the mech samurai. Kikuchiyo laughed and thumped Rikichi on the shoulder with his free hand, nearly toppling him over.

"Ah, you look even better Rikichi, and don't you dare call me sama." He blew some steam out of his exhaust pipe. "We're old friends, man; there's no need for titles or subjugation. I'm one of you, remember?" Rikichi nodded and gripped Kikuchiyo's arm.

"That you are, my friend. We are so glad you've returned; we feared we would never see you again after what happened with the capital. For a number of years we feared the worst." Kikuchiyo stood up straight and proud (or as straight as he could without hurting his bruised ribs), and laughed heartily, blowing even more steam out of his vents.

"Oh, please," the mech rumbled, "as if a measly airship would take me down. You all couldn't keep me away if you tried!" The crowd erupted into cheers again, the men thrusting their fists into the air and the women applauding loudly. Rikichi spread his hands out as though to embrace his friend again.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like Kikuchiyo; what's ours is yours." The village leader smirked slightly. "Maybe you could help with the harvest this time, hm? Looks like you've been compacted slightly." Kikuchiyo laughed again, flexing his new right arm.

"Ah, I've had some work done," he said, shrugging his mechanical shoulders, "doubt I'd be able to get down and farm though. But if you guys need a resident samurai, I'm your man!" There was even louder applause at this. Rikichi nodded, and looked excitedly around at the other villagers.

"Tonight we'll have a feast; to celebrate the return of our hero! Kikuchiyo, you are most welcome here!" The villagers exploded in cheers, stamping their feet and farming tools like drum sticks to the ground. Kikuchiyo beamed and felt his metal face grow hot; he starting to feel a little overwhelmed by all of this positive attention.

After some more greetings and appreciations were exchanged, the villagers of Kanna dispersed back to their previous activities, though everyone took the opportunity to at least shake Kikuchiyo's hand or pat him on the back. Kikuchiyo soon found himself alone, except for the great mob of children that had congregated around his feet. He glanced around at them, taken slightly aback by all the wondrous faces staring up at him. He didn't mind children, of course; there were just so many. One little boy with spiky bluish-black hair raised his hand.

"Mr. Kikuchiyo-sama, are you really a samurai?" Kikuchiyo looked down at the little boy and laughed, that warm tingle returning to his chest.

"I most certainly am!" he said, wrenching his sword out of the ground and raising it above his head for all of the children to see. "See this? This is the sword that felled dozens of Nobuseri bandits in one swing!" The children "oohed" ecstatically, and several of them raised their little hands into the air while speaking at once.

"Did you really save the village?"

"Are you real strong?"

"Did you know the other samurai that fought in the war?"

"Were you always made of metal?" Kikuchiyo found himself grimacing at being bombarded by so many excited questions; he suddenly wished he could walk away.

"Now, now children; don't crowd the samurai. He's had a long journey." A maternal woman's voice sounded above the enthusiastic warbling of the little ones, drawing both their attentions and Kikuchiyo's. A woman of thirty or so years approached from one of the huts. She walked in an awkward shuffle, one hand at her back and one on her swollen stomach, but she had the glow of expectant motherhood about her. Her long brown hair flared out like a veil from her back. Kikuchiyo robot-smiled; he heart warmed at the sight of yet another old friend.

"Lookin' good, Kirara," he said, holding out his hands to clasp hers when she reached him. Kirara smiled back fondly, lightly kissing Kikuchiyo's hands.

"Welcome back Kikuchiyo," she said, her eyes sparkling. "You've been greatly missed. It's so good to see you again." Kikuchiyo was surprised at how much deeper her voice was, and softer. The strong, high resonance of the water priestess he had protected sixteen years ago was reduced to a gentle murmur. He wondered what could have tamed her, but he didn't let his minor concern show.

Kikuchiyo placed a large hand on Kirara's round belly, reveling in the warmth her pregnancy radiated.

"This one your first?" he asked. Kirara nodded, blushing. The baby within her kicked, and Kikuchiyo felt his heart soar at the tiny movement. "Who's the lucky guy?" Kirara's smile fell, as did her eyes. Kikuchiyo wondered for a horrible moment if he had hurt her feelings. "Kirara?" Kirara shook herself, as if coming out of some sort of trance, and her smile returned. This time, however, her smile did not warm her eyes like it did before.

"My husband's name is Tetsuo," she said quietly. "I should have brought him over to meet you, but I guess he left already…"

"No I didn't, I'm right here!" Kikuchiyo turned his head at yet another unseen villager's raised greeting. A man a couple years older than Kirara was striding towards them from the direction of the rice fields, a big grin on his face. He had a strong jaw and broad shoulders, as well as large, muscular arms and legs and wide hands. He was definitely a worker; Kikuchiyo wouldn't have been surprised if this man could pull a full-loaded rice cart by himself. He had clean-cropped greenish hair and low sideburns, and his face was open and gently crinkled with laugh lines. The man came over to stand beside Kirara, slinging one arm around her shoulders while holding his free hand out to Kikuchiyo. "It's a pleasure to meet you, great samurai," he said, in a deep baritone of a voice. Kikuchiyo clasped the man's hand, wondering at the odd sense of familiarity he heard in his voice. "I'm Tetsuo, formally of the Valley of Akashi. Kirara and I have been married for five years now." Kikuchiyo blew an astounded puff of steam out of his pipe.

"Five years? Man, have I missed out. Congratulations to you both!" Tetsuo chuckled and waved his hand.

"Thanks, but I should say congratulations to you, Kikuchiyo-sama. Kirara's been telling me all about you as long as I've known her, about how you and the other samurai took out the Nobuseri; how you single-handedly destroyed the capital and the emperor." He whistled impressively and shook his head. "I can't believe you survived. I'm glad you've been able to get back on your feet and return here to Kanna." Kikuchiyo straightened up proudly.

"It's been a long road but I'm finally ready to be a samurai again, and I was hoping to make Kanna my homestead, since I have nowhere else to go." He glanced at Kirara. She looked like she wanted to pull away from Tetsuo, but felt guilty about wishing for such a thing. "As long as that's okay with everyone," he added. Kirara looked up at him, smiling again.

"I'm sure Rikichi wouldn't hear of anything else," she said kindly. Kikuchiyo started.

"Rikichi is the leader of the village now?" he asked. Kirara nodded.

"The elder chose him for the job just before he died ten years ago; Rikichi's been more than up for the task. He and Sanae govern the village together, though she's been feeling poorly lately and has had to stay in bed these last couple of days." Kikuchiyo remembered Rikichi's wife from the time of the war, how frail and shy she had been after being rescued and reconstituted from the former emperor's harem. He wondered if her mind had recovered any since then.

Kikuchiyo glanced down at the group of children still gathered around him, searching for features that might be remnants of people he knew.

"Any of these little ones belong to Rikichi by any chance?" he asked, looking back up to Kirara for an answer. She shook her head sadly.

"He and Sanae have tried to have children in the past, but they could never conceive. But Rikichi doesn't mind; he didn't want to risk Sanae's health or the possibility of her losing another baby." She rubbed her rounded belly. "I just hope our child is strong enough to survive; I haven't been feeling well of late." Kikuchiyo made a concerned noise; he suddenly noticed the shadows under the water priestess's eyes. Tetsuo wrapped his arms around his wife and gave her a gentle kiss on her brow. Kirara barely seemed to notice.

"I'm sure he or she will be just fine," Tetsuo said gently. Kikuchiyo puffed out some steam and nodded assuredly.

"Are you kidding? Kirara's one of the bravest women I know! That baby will be one of the strongest ones born in this village; I guarantee it!" Kirara smiled appreciatively at her old friend, and even reciprocated her husband's embrace, albeit half-heartedly.

"Thank-you Kikuchiyo." Kikuchiyo laughed and waved his hand. As he shared a friendly smile with the woman, a sudden flash of near alarm sounded in his processor-brain. He realized there was another familiar face he had yet to see since he entered Kanna, one that he had been missing even more than Kirara and Rikichi.

"Hey Kirara," he asked, glancing about wildly and temporarily forgetting about the circle of children around his feet, "where's your sister? Where's Komachi?"

Almost as soon as he asked the question, and before Kirara could even start to answer, Kikuchiyo heard yet another voice call in from a direction he was not facing. It was a shrill, ecstatic shriek of surprise and euphoria that took the form of his name, or rather his nickname.

"KIKU!" Kikuchiyo whipped around just in time to be tackled around the middle by a flying body, one that was as lithe and graceful as it was strong. The impact was enough to drive the mech samurai several steps backwards, sending the crowd of children scattering in different directions, laughing and shouting in amusement. Kikuchiyo's vents exploded in a cloud of steam, his breath knocked clean out of him by the force of whoever had attacked him. His bruised ribs throbbed painfully, but luckily his armor prevented any real damage from being inflicted. He gasped and looked down to see who it that had latched onto his waist. A slender young woman in her early twenties stood with her arms clinging to his middle, her shoulders shaking from what sounded like excited, laughing sobs. Her brown hair was short, hanging just below her ears, and she wore the same kind of traditional red tasseled headdress Kirara used to wear.

"What…?" For a moment, Kikuchiyo was confused; he couldn't recognize the young woman without seeing her face. But the young woman then turned her head up so that her face was exposed to the open, and any trace of doubt Kikuchiyo had was blasted away.

"Komachi…" he said, his voice breathless with disbelief. The little girl he had befriended and protected sixteen years ago was right in front of him, only to have grown into a beautiful young woman. Komachi was a sight to behold, with her trim figure and long, narrow heart-shaped face, her thin nose and slanted eyebrows; her high cheekbones and gentle, smiling mouth. Her reddish-brown eyes were shining with emotion, happy tears streaming down her pale cheek as she gazed adoringly up at Kikuchiyo, her chin resting on his lower chest. Kikuchiyo found he couldn't take his visor off of her, feeling like he was drowning in her eyes. She really was lovely.

"Welcome home, Kiku," Komachi said quietly, her voice trembling with emotion. Kikuchiyo snapped out of his trance and suddenly remembered who exactly was clinging to him. He chortled out loud and scooped Komachi up into his arms.

"Hey there Sprout!" he whooped, lifting the young woman up above his head and spinning her around like he used to when she was little, before bringing her down into a bear hug. "Look at you, all grown up and beautiful; what a man-killer you've turned out to be!"

Komachi laughed excitedly and hugged him back, sobbing with joy at being back in her guardian's warm embrace. It was wonderful feeling the samurai's strong metal arms about her, after so many years of being apart. She felt safe and protected…and even loved.

Kikuchiyo was careful not to squeeze Komachi too hard, so as not to hurt her. Although, both her enthusiastic greeting and his decision to lift her up and spin her around was starting to hurt him a little more than he expected; he couldn't get over the fact that his insides still required time to heal. Still, having her in his arms felt so good, so right, after so many years of being separated from her. She was his best friend, his partner in crime; how he had missed her.

"I missed you _so_ much, Kiku!" Komachi wept, burying her face in his shirt and tightening her arms around his waist. Kikuchiyo felt oil well in his visor, but fought the tears back down; now was the time to be happy, not sad. He gently pushed her away a bit but kept his large hands on her shoulders, gazing into her lovely face.

"I missed you too Sprout," he said; but then Kikuchiyo chuckled fondly, an odd thought occurring to him. "Heh, I guess I can't call you 'Sprout' anymore, huh?" he said, placing a hand on her head and ruffling her hair. "You've grown up, kiddo; guess I have to start calling you 'Sapling' now." Komachi, her eyes running over every inch of Kikuchiyo they could reach.

"You look so different now," she said, though her tone was in wonder rather than surprise at how his appearance had been altered. Kikuchiyo felt his face grow hot, and he rubbed the back of his head with a palm.

"Well, you know; I was pretty banged up from the war; Masamune and Mifune had to do a lot of reformatting to get me back to functional form." Komachi tilted her head curiously.

"What happened to your other jacket?" she asked.

"It was too shredded to mend, and so was my shirt."

"What happened to the rest of your hair?"

" Most of it was burned off."

"What about your jaw?"

"It was crushed, and my sockets were too broken up to support one of the same size. So, Masamune fitted me with a smaller one."

"Your shoulder plates?"

"Didn't want 'em anymore, plus my shoulders were too messed up; a lot of the parts had to be removed." He felt more heat rise in his face; if the mech samurai could blush he certainly would be then. Komachi's eyes fixed on the giant silver weld-scar running down the center of her friend's facial plate.

"Is that from the ship?" she asked. He nodded, tracing the weld with a gloved thumb.

"It pierced too deep to Sauder back together." He winced at a sudden stab of pain in his chest; his ribs protesting again. Komachi gave him a concerned look, but he waved his hand dismissively. "My insides are still kind of busted up. The repairs made it hard for my human body to heal on its own. That's why I need the crutch." He leaned back onto the assisting tool, wishing he could get off his feet for a while, or at least walk the pain off. Komachi grinned and held his free hand in both of hers.

"I think you look great, Kiku," she said warmly. "In fact, you've never looked better. You're still as big and clunky as I remember you, but at least now your samurai features aren't so exaggerated." Kikuchiyo chuckled.

"Thanks, kiddo." He looked up when he noticed two more young adults striding towards them from the direction Komachi had come. He recognized the young woman almost immediately; the scruffy blue-black hair and mischievous smirk were unmistakable. The pale, dark haired young man beside her was totally unfamiliar to him.

"Good to see you back on your feet Kiku," said Okara, walking over to give the samurai a hearty pat on the arm. "I love your new look; you don't look so much like a nobuseri anymore." Kikuchiyo gave her a returning thump on the shoulder.

"Good to see you too Okara-chan," he chuckled. "You look more like a woman now, or so far as I can tell under all that dirt." Okara sniggered. The young man stood back a bit, his arms crossed, his pale face stony. Komachi noticed him standing there and gasped.

"Oh, I forgot!" She skipped over to the youth and tugged him back to stand in front of Kikuchiyo, putting an arm around his shoulders and holding the samurai's hand. "Kiku, this is Takao. We've been friends since we were ten; he's a plow-worker. Takao-kun, this is Kikuchiyo." Kikuchiyo held his hand out to shake Takao's. The young man simply stared at him, his gaze steely, his hand immobile by his side. Kikuchiyo held his hand suspended out in front of him for a couple of moments, then quickly dropped it.

"Nice to meet you, Takao," he said awkwardly. Takao nodded stiffly, his expression unchanging. Komachi glanced between them, then coughed loudly, trying to break the tension.

"Well, okay; now everyone's met…um." She hesitated, but Kirara swooped in to seize the torch (figuratively speaking).

"Okara-chan, Takao-kun, why don't we leave Komachi and Kikuchiyo alone for a little bit?" she said, grinning broadly between the youths and the mecha samurai. Kikuchiyo looked at her, surprised. Komachi glanced gratefully at her sister, and latched herself onto Kikuchiyo's free arm, grinning blissfully.

"I just want to have some time to catch up," she said to her two friends, catching their eyes with meaning. "I doubt you two want to hear me blab about how life's been here for the last sixteen years." Okara snickered again, a knowing look in her eyes. Takao's stony face turned icy, but he said nothing. Tetsuo seemed to catch onto Kirara's plan and quickly added his agreement.

"Yeah, come on you two. Takao, I actually need you to help me with something in the firewood grove; gotta get wood for the feast tonight. Okara-chan, why don't you help Kirara with the kids?" He nodded to the congregation of children that had clustered a few feet away.

The four villagers quickly dispersed, although Takao seemed reluctant to depart from Komachi's side, leaving her and Kikuchiyo alone in the village center. Kikuchiyo felt very aware of Komachi's presence at his side, her arms wrapped around his free arm, pressed close up against him. Her proximity made his armor feel hotter than normal.

"So, uh," he said awkwardly, suddenly feeling too shy to look at her directly. Komachi nuzzled against his sleeve.

"I have so much to tell you," she said softly, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Kikuchiyo puffed a cloud of steam, then finally turned his head and smiled back down at her. He was actually quite anxious to spend time catching up with his best friend.

"Yeah, me too, but you start, Sapling; tell me everything you've been up to."


	4. Chapter 3: The Promise

For those of you who are KatsuKira pairings I apologize for the lack of the in this story. Like you I too wanted them to get together, but then I thought she didn't deserve him after being so obsessed with Kambei. I haven't seen the last episode yet either, so there's that...Anyway, in this chapter we'll explore their lack of pairing a little bit, and I can promise you the reasons behind Kirara being with an OC will be explained. Remember: This is a KikuKoma story!

Oil and Water

Chapter 3: The Promise

Kikuchiyo and Komachi spent the entire rest of the day together, touring Kanna and sharing stories about how their lives had been since the end of the war. They strolled hand in hand through the rice fields for hours, sometimes chatting, sometimes spending time in companionable silence. Kikuchiyo commented on how healthy the rice was growing, and complemented the farmers' inventiveness in coming up with the irrigation trenches. Komachi lead her friend to the small hut on a high terrace above the fields, where Kikuchiyo was surprised and delighted to find Heihachi living there. The woodcutter samurai had retired to the relaxed life of an injured veteran. The final battle sixteen years ago left Heihachi paralyzed from the waist down, so he had quit the life of a samurai in favor for the life of a woodcarver. He carved elegant statues and instruments from wood brought to him by the villagers, which they used to trade and sell to people passing through the farmlands. In return the villagers brought him all the rice he could eat.

"And I'd be getting pretty fat from all that rice if it weren't for Katsushiro," Heihachi laughed. He and Kikuchiyo sat together on the porch outside his hut, while Komachi went to the nearby spring to get some fresh water. Heihachi looked pretty good for someone who had permanently lost the use of his legs. He was a bit thinner in the face than he had been the last time Kikuchiyo had seen him, and he looked a little older and more weary than someone his age should have looked—his messy red hair was already streaked with gray—but his upper body was impressively well-muscled and he still had that laid back smile no matter what they were talking about. His wooden wheelchair was conservative, built to be practical rather than comfortable.

"Katsu lives here too?" Kikuchiyo asked, surprised. He hadn't seen the young samurai once since his arrival, which seriously bummed him out. The prospect of seeing another old friend made his hydraulics quicken. Heihachi waved a hand dismissively.

"Nah, he doesn't live here anymore," he said, sighing as though this was a tragedy. "He used to; the first couple of years he never left my side, helping me adjust, treating my wounds and such. As soon as I was used to the wheelchair, he packed up and left. He comes by twice a month to visit and help me keep up with my exercises, or gives me new ones. Sometimes we spar, though I'm no good at it anymore." His smile fell a little bit. "I think it's painful for him to be here, though, so he only comes when he feels he has to."

"Why would it be painful?" Kikuchiyo asked. "He's welcome here isn't he?" Heihachi grimaced.

"Oh, he's welcome here, of course; the villagers are always happy to see him. It's just…there are unpleasant memories here for him, after what happened to Kyuzou…and with Kirara." Kikuchiyo looked at him, suddenly interested. He'd been wondering about that; his surprise at seeing the senior water priestess married to another man had been even greater than finding out Heihachi had settled in Kanna.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice an excited whisper. Heihachi glanced around, making sure there wasn't anyone around to overhear. Komachi was still at the spring fetching water. He leaned in and beckoned to Kikuchiyo, who scooted closer.

"Well, after you were put into stasis and carted off to Hogakyo, Kirara made this big scene about trying to get Kambei to stay here. She knew he wasn't planning to come back. She followed the cart they carried you on all the way to Wing Rock. I don't know what Kambei said, but he must've not have been real gentle in his rejection. She came back horribly dejected. Now, Katsushiro was kinda peeved at Kirara's attitude. When she got back he railed her about not appreciating the sacrifices you me and Kyuzou made. I mean, I've never heard him sound so angry, especially not at her. I was kinda out of it at the time but I can remember it pretty well. He went on and on about how she wasn't seeing the big picture, and how it didn't matter if Kambei was there or not because the villagers were free. He said that having too many samurai around one village might cause more trouble, and that the common people should just get on with their lives and be grateful. He then said she didn't see Kambei for what he really was, that she saw him as just some hero to fall over for. She didn't see what he stood for. Kirara flipped out and told Katsushiro he didn't know anything about her, that he would never be the samurai Kambei was, and, I swear to you, she said he was just jealous of Kambei, and that she could never love someone who didn't see past his jealousy." Kikuchiyo blew out several volumes of steam.

"Wow…that's harsh," he sighed. "What did Katsu do?" Heihachi chuckled.

"At first he didn't do anything; he just stared at her. My vision was a little fuzzy by then, but I swear he started tearing up after she said that."

"Katsu cried?"

"Not out loud, but I'm sure he wanted to. He just said, 'I'm sorry. I wish I could do more to deserve you, but I guess that's not going to happen." Then he took me into an abandoned hut and that was the end of it. He cried all night alone, but I didn't let him know I could hear him; I'm sure he didn't want anybody to know he hurt. I think Kirara felt pretty bad about that later though, because she kept trying to come and see him for the next couple of weeks. He wouldn't talk to her even though it was obvious he wanted to; he never said a single word. When he packed up and headed out after the first couple of years later, she apparently tried to get him to stay just like she had with Kambei. I think because Kambei never came back she figured out she might have had stronger feelings for Katsushiro than she realized. Maybe she wanted to give him a chance. Either way, he shot her down just like Kambei had, although I'm pretty sure he was gentler about it. She told me later he said 'Don't wait for me; I'm not worth someone like you.' I guess in the end he still had high respect for her. The two of them haven't spoken since."

Kikuchiyo whistled through his exhaust pipe, looking out over the rice fields. He and Heihachi sat in silence for a moment, listening to the birds and the rustle of wind through the trees and over the grass.

"That's a damn shame," Kikuchiyo sighed, rubbing the back of his helm. "I'd always thought for sure that Katsu and Kirara would get together; they would have been such a cute couple." Heihachi chuckled.

"That's what I said for a while; every time Katsushiro came to visit after he first left I told him he should have never let her go. But then she went and married that Tetsuo guy and I shut up." Kikuchiyo glanced at the former samurai, his visor glowing.

"Yeah, what's up with that? I mean the guy seems nice enough, but she doesn't seem to like him very much. When I met him she didn't want to be close to him. And she's pregnant with his child and all. Not a very functional relationship if you ask me." Heihachi shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"I don't get it either. Katsushiro shows up enough times that she had plenty of opportunities to make things up, and so did he. I guess Kirara's more complicated than we all assumed, huh?" Kikuchiyo snorted.

"Women are strange, Heihachi buddy. I couldn't figure 'em out even before I had part of my brain replaced with a computer. Hell, I still don't get them!" But, a small amount of guilt dropped into his stomach as he said this. Komachi was a woman now, and he felt he understood her as well as he had when she was a child. Or at least he assumed he did….He thought about the fluttering, warm feeling in his belly whenever she held his hand, when she had gazed so adoringly up at him during their reunion…

"Love and romance is a young man's game, Kikuchiyo-dono," Heihachi sighed, breaking into the mech's thoughts. "I don't know about you, but I don't feel so young anymore. I imagine this is how Kambei and Shirouji felt during the war, but maybe it's just 'cause I'm so worn out these days." Kikuchiyo laughed heartily and gave his friend a light shove, wheeling him back a few inches.

"Ah, don't go all surreal on me, man," he chortled, wondering if his voice sounded too forced. "We're still youngish; I've bet you've still got some fight in you!" Heihachi grinned sideways, scratching his cheek with a finger.

"Depends on what you mean by fight. If you mean could I still lift a sword, sure. I'd probably beat you at a sculpting contest or an arm wrestling match though." The two samurai roared with laughter, rocking back and forward like a couple of children. Inside, however, Kikuchiyo's uncertainty churned painfully beneath his bruised ribs. Was it Komachi he didn't understand, or himself?

Beside the hut, out of sight from the two samurai, Komachi leaned against the wall, the bucket of spring water hanging limply at her side, her eyes watery. She'd never heard so much about the altercation between Katsushiro and her sister; she'd been too depressed about Kikuchiyo's uncertain fate at the time to pay attention to any other drama going on around her. Listening to Heihachi's story made her heart twist with sorrow and regret for her sister. Did Kirara maybe have feelings for Katsushiro, or was she still in love with Kambei? What was her real reason for marrying Tetsuo, a man she hardly bothered to know? Was this why she felt unwell all the time, because she was pregnant by neither of the men she had loved? Komachi tilted her head back, watching clouds roll by through the trees. She listened to Kikuchiyo's booming laughter around the other side of the hut, and wondered why his comment of not understanding women had given her a twinge of hurt? His nonchalant attitude about love…why did it leave her feeling so…wanting?

The feast for Kikuchiyo's return was held just after sunrise in Kanna's center. The villagers pulled everything they didn't need for reserves and served it to the finest quality they could. The women were nearly exhausted from stirring cooking pots and shifting frying pans. Heihachi was helped down from his hut above the rice fields to participate in the festivities, something that brought a length or two to his goofy grin. Children sneaked extra cakes and rice balls when the adults weren't looking, and some of the younger men indulged more into the sake then they probably should have. Kikuchiyo sat at the head of the gathering, Komachi and Rikichi on either side of him. Sanae, who was feeling well enough to attend the feast, offered her congratulations to Kikuchiyo on his recovery, and expressed her thanks for all he had done. Kikuchiyo clasped her hand and told her how glad he was that she was feeling better. He regaled the people with stories from his past, before he became a samurai, how he became a samurai, what went on with the seven samurai and messenger team outside the village. Heihachi filled in a few details here and there, and even shared some stories from his past as well. Rikichi told of how the village had prospered and the great peace that followed in the wake of the capital's defeat. People were fascinated to hear about Kikuchiyo's and Heihachi's early samurai careers, especially how Kikuchiyo had gotten his mechanical body and how he had spent his first few years as a samurai taking hired jobs for warlords in far-off countries. Heihachi commented how Kikuchiyo's early career had been a lot less disappointing than his own, to which Kikuchiyo replied,

"At least you knew what the hell you were doing." Throughout the carousing and story-telling, Komachi hardly ever left Kikuchiyo's side. She always kept at least some part of her body in contact with him, whether it be her hand on his, her shoulder against his arm, one arm curled around his elbow, or her head resting against his shoulder. Sometimes he unconsciously pulled her close to him, one hand resting at her back or on her arm, but then he realized this might seem odd to those around them and put a little distance between them. However, there was never a moment when his hand was not touching hers. Her very presence was comforting, as was his to her. It was as if neither could bear to not be assured that the other was there. It was friendship at its deepest.

Of course, their close proximity to each other did not go unnoticed. In all the talking and the story telling, the feasting and the laughing, two pairs of eyes were constantly shifting back and forth between the mech samurai and the water priestess, though the intent behind the eyes were different for the two people they sat in.

Kirara's gaze lingered on Kikuchiyo and Komachi for a number of moments at different intervals. Anyone who saw her watching them might have seen the combination of regret and tenderness in her regard, and although she showed no emotion to support that within her eyes, every once in a while her bottom lip would tremble, and she would place a hand on her bulging belly.

Takao's attention to Komachi and Kikuchiyo was the exact opposite of Kirara's. He openly stared in distrust at the mech samurai, though everyone around was too distracted to see it. His eyebrows were creased in a constant frown, and he kept moving closer to Komachi every couple of minutes, trying to keep at least some contact with her. He'd brush her hand with his or graze his knee against hers, to which she would reply with a turn of the head and a smile before quickly returning her attention to the party or to Kikuchiyo. Takao chewed angrily at his food, and refused to drink any sake, though he normally would have reveled in the chance to enjoy such a strong beverage. Any time Komachi looked at him his frown would vanish and he'd return her smile graciously, but that expression would also disappear in favor of the frown.

The feast lasted well into the late night, and only when all the food was gone and the adults started to follow the children in dozing off did Rikichi call the celebration to an end. Villagers came up one by one to wish Kikuchiyo a good-night and a final welcome before groggily trudging off to their huts for a well-needed sleep. Rikichi bade his friend good-night and took Sanae home, one arm wrapped securely around her frail waist. Okara took Heihachi back up to his hut after he'd already dozed off, making sure he didn't fall out of his wheelchair, her mischievous snigger trailing behind them. Kirara gave Kikuchiyo an affectionate hug and kissed him on the metal cheek before following Tetsuo home, reluctantly accepting his arm for support. When Kikuchiyo and Komachi were the only ones left in the village center, the mech samurai surprised his friend by scooping her up and plopping her down onto his broad shoulder. She gasped in surprise.

"Kiku, what are you doing!?" she giggled, swinging her legs like a child. Kikuchiyo looked up at her, an awkward robot grin on his scarred face.

"What're you talking about?" he rumbled, fixing his crutch firmly under one arm and tucking his sword into its loop at his back. "This is how we operate, right? I carry you, you annoy the hell out of me; I walk while you get the good view. That's the deal, Sapling." Komachi couldn't help but laugh out loud at this, nearly falling off his high shoulder. She then wrapped her arms around his helmed head, covering his visor with her hands.

"Is this annoying enough for you?" she teased. Kikuchiyo guffawed, tugging half-heartedly at her hands and pretending to stumble around. Komachi shrieked when he nearly ran into a watchtower, yanking at his remaining helm horn and yelling,

"Left!" Kikuchiyo obeyed the uttered direction, swerving at the last minute and whirling around in the other direction.

"Tell you what," he chortled, halting for a moment to give his insides a reprieve, "you tell me where to go, and I'll try not to break anything." Komachi giggled and scooted to make herself more comfortable on his shoulder.

"Deal," she said. She gave him a gentle kick with her heel. "Now, forward!"

Kikuchiyo let Komachi guide him all the way out of the village, where she told him there was an empty hut travelers used whenever they passed through the area. She told him he was welcome to it, as long as he could find it. Kikuchiyo accepted her challenge and ceased his joking stumbles and tripping. He focused on her directions and followed them accordingly, surprising her in how steadily he was able to walk without the use of his visual feed. He limped a little bit more and leaned heavily on his crutch, having pushed his recovering stamina further than he'd meant to with the teasing. They reached the hut without much incident other than bumping into a tree or two, and Komachi finally removed her hands from his visor. The hut looked like any in Kanna, well-kept to be ready for any travelers who needed it. A small reed fountain sat in the front to the right of the porch; just a nice touch to make it more homey.

"Looks nice," said Kikuchiyo. He stepped towards the porch, and Komachi's head bumped a branch on a nearby tree. She huffed and knocked on his helm with a light fist.

"Okay, I got you hear, now let me down," she said, though her tone was still teasing. Kikuchiyo chuckled and gently pulled her off his shoulder, giving her a tender look before setting her down on the ground.

"You've gotten a lot heavier there, Sapling," he said, ruffling her hair so hard she squealed in protest. "I hadn't expected you to be so big."

"Are you calling me fat?" she asked in mock-hurt, slapping his hand away. "You shouldn't talk like that to a lady. I am a water priestess, after all." Kikuchiyo chortled.

"You're no lady," he teased. She gave him a look of exaggerated insult, but softened it when he cupped her cheek with his free hand. "You're my partner, and I'm still your sidekick, right?" Komachi smiled and touched the hand he held to her cheek.

"That's right," she said warmly, "and you always will be." Her eyes grew sober. "I missed you, Kiku, so much." Kikuchiyo made a robotic humming noise and pulled her into a hug.

"I missed you more, kiddo," he said quietly. "I thought about you all the time. I promise I won't leave you again. I don't think I could take not seeing you again." Komachi smiled into his shirt, her heart fluttering at his words.

"So, you're here to stay?" she asked. He laughed and pulled away, holding her at arm's length.

"Try and make me leave," he said. He cupped her face in his hand again, then ruffled her hair a second time. "It's late, and we should both get some rest. I know I need to get off my feet for a while. You okay walking home by yourself?" Komachi smirked and shoved his hand away again.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Kiku; I have seen war, remember?"

"Alright then; g'night Sapling."

"Good-night Kiku; promise you'll be here in the morning?"

"I promise."

Komachi walked slowly down the path that lead back to the village, thinking hard. She lived in the hut that had once belonged to her grandmother, since Kirara lived with Tetsuo. However, at this moment she didn't feel like she was walking home. She felt like she was leaving her home behind; a part of her had wanted to stay with Kikuchiyo in the traveler's hut, even though she knew such a thing wasn't allowed. Young women did not spend nights in the huts of men they weren't married to, even if they did have mechanical bodies. And yet, even though she had simply said good-night to him, and even though she knew he would still be in Kanna in the morning, Komachi felt a slight ache in her chest at having to part from Kikuchiyo. It was silly to feel upset after such a nice day and nice evening, yet she realized how much she didn't want to be away from the mech samurai for any length of time.

'It must be from all those years of not seeing him,' she thought to herself, taking a turn down a hill sheltered by a thick copse of trees. But, for some reason, the self-explaination doesn't fit. Of course she had missed him, she'd missed him terribly. But now that he was back….it was like she couldn't bear to miss him again. Komachi halted for a moment, the threshold of the village center just steps away. This…longing she felt, it wasn't like the longing she had experienced over the last sixteen years. Now that Kikuchiyo was back, she'd thought for sure the longing would have left, since it was obviously just a product of her missing her best friend. But, it didn't go away; now that she thought about it, her longing felt stronger, more present. It was now a physical ache rather than nagging memory. Komachi wondered if it meant she had missed Kikuchiyo's presence in her life more than she previously thought. She wondered back to the internal wrestling she'd had with herself at the grave site, and her thoughts drifted to the promises she and Kikuchiyo had made to each other….

"Hey, Komachi-chan!" Komachi jumped horribly at the voice that suddenly cut through the silent night air. It wasn't a shout, but it wasn't a whisper either. It was, however, familiar. Komachi took the few steps that lead her into the village and saw Takao jogging towards her. She smiled and waved at him, trying to cast the ache in her chest aside.

"What're you doing out here so late?" she asked when he was close enough for soft talk. Takao smirked at her from the corner of his eye.

"I'd ask you the same question, water-priestess," he said slyly, giving her a gentle nudge with his palm. She giggled and nudged him back.

"Oh please. I was showing Kikuchiyo to his hut up the hill; what's your excuse?" Takao's face darkened at the sound of Kikuchiyo's name.

"You were with him?" he asked, his voice strangely tense. Komachi blinked, her smile fading.

"Yes. I was just showing him where he would be staying, and I wanted to say good-night. So?" Takao thinned his lips, but then shook his head, putting his smile back on.

"Ah, I just don't really care….well, never mind, that's not why I'm out here." Komachi rolled her eyes; he was being evasive, she could tell.

"Okay, fine; why are you out here?" Takao's smile broadened, and he offered her his arm.

"Walk with me?" he asked. Komachi shrugged, not seeing any harm in that.

"Just as long as I get home at a decent hour," she said sardonically. "I do have to get my beauty sleep, you know." Takao chuckled and lead her into the village towards her hut.

"Komachi, you remember when we were walking earlier, by the grave sites?" he asked. Komachi nodded, remembering he had opened with the same "walk with me" question.

"Yeah, what about it?" Takao blushed and grinned sheepishly at her. She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, there was something I wanted to ask you then, but we were interrupted by Okara before I could say it." Komachi stopped for a moment, surprised at the memory the statement evoked.

"Yeah, that's right; you were all fidgety that time. I thought you had something to say. What is it?" A thought occurred to her, and knowing grin crossed her face. "Takao-kun, you little devil," she teased, poking him in the side. "You met a girl, didn't you?" Takao balked, then blushed furiously and looked away. Komachi laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

"I knew it! Who is it? Sorako? Yuki? It's one of the Murusashi sisters isn't it?" Takao bit his lip and looked back up at her, terribly embarrassed. Komachi giggled; she loved the idea of Takao being in love. He was such a shy guy; he'd barely known how to talk with her and Okara when they were kids. "Who is it? Come on, silly boy, tell me!" Takao straightened up, a determined look on his face.

"I didn't meet anyone," he said firmly, "I've made a decision. Komachi, you've been my best friend since as long as I can remember. You're the kindest, funniest, prettiest girl I've ever met…and I…I've cared about you for a really long time." Komachi's anxious smile fell slowly downward, her eyes widening. A sense of foreboding rose into her stomach, and her throat tightened so much she couldn't speak. His words seemed to be…building. What was he going at? Takao let out a breath, then suddenly placed his hands firmly on Komachi's shoulders. She resisted the urge to flinch. "Komachi, I'm in love with you," he said evenly. "I've been in love with you for at least the last three years; maybe even longer than that. I love you and I want to be with you….forever." Komachi's breathing turned shallow and uneven as Takao took her hands in his.

"Komachi, water priestess of Kanna, will you be my wife?"

Komachi stared at him, her eyes nearly bulging, her mouth hanging limply open. Takao…be her husband? Her, marry Takao? She…be his wife?

"I…Uh…Um…" Komachi stuttered, unable to form proper words with her cement-covered tongue. Takao looked at her plaintively, his eyes concerned.

"What's wrong? Did I not ask it right? I meant to ask you this morning, but then that samurai showed up and everything got a little…distracted." By "everything" he probably meant her. Komachi swallowed and took a few deep breaths, trying to organize her chaotic thoughts into rational notions. Takao and her married? It wasn't…It couldn't….No. Komachi's mind finally started to settle. No, she couldn't marry him, it would never work. She couldn't marry him because she didn't love him, not in that way. He was handsome, yes. He was a good worker, yes. He was a good guy, yes. But did she love him? No, not romantically; he was more like a brother to her. He couldn't be, wouldn't be, the one to make her happy for life, and she couldn't do the same for him. Nothing about the idea of marrying Takao seemed right to Komachi; not at all.

Komachi swallowed and shook her head. Takao gave her a questioning look, and she evenly met his gaze.

"I'm sorry Takao-kun," she said carefully, "but I can't marry you. I do not wish to be your wife." Takao blanched, his already pale face turning chalk-white. His mouth opened and his brow slanted in a dejected frown.

"What? But, why not?" he asked, his voice pleading. "I love you, Komachi; I'd do anything for you. We've known each other for years; we're best friends. Why wouldn't you want to be with me?" Komachi gave him a sympathetic look.

"I can't marry you because I don't love you. I'm fond of you, and I care about you very much; you're one of my best friends. But, I don't love you, not in the way you say you love me."

"But, Komachi-chan…"

"Please, Takao-kun, no more. I am sorry, truly, but it wouldn't be fair for me to just agree. If I can't love you back, there's no point." She gulped again, tears forming from somewhere she couldn't recall. "I hope you can forgive me. Good-night, Takao-kun." She squeezed his hands, and then retreated in the direction of her hut, not daring to look back. Takao stood frozen in the same spot, watching her leave. He clenched his fists and teeth together, and then turned his head away, his shoulders trembling as he tried to stop the angry tears from falling.

Komachi ran all the way to her hut on the other side of the village, tears streaming down her face. She never wanted to hurt Takao, and she hoped to the spirits he would forgive her. She couldn't bear the idea of losing his friendship over this. When she stumbled up into her hut, flicking her shoes off before falling to the floor, Komachi quickly crawled over to her grandmother's alter and knelt to a prayer position. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands, the tears still falling in rivulets down her flushed cheeks. She prayed that Takao would find it in her heart to forgive her; she prayed for the strength to face him the next time they crossed paths; and she prayed for the fortitude to embrace the real reason she had refused his proposal. Because, as she ran away from the young man she had come to care for as a brother, Komachi's real motivation for doing so had come crashing down on her, bring as much cause for tears as her blatant rejection of her best friend's love. She realized that she couldn't marry Takao, could never marry him or any other man, because she had already promised her heart to someone else. And now that someone had finally come back to her, she realized it was him she had longed for all these years.


	5. Chapter 4: The Rift

Okay, so I just saw the last episode today...Yeah, I kinda took some liberty on that one. But, you know, this is an alternate timeline, alternate ending, blah blah blah. Still applies. This chapter's a little longer than the last couple, and things get a little more complicated, and a little bit darker. Enjoy!

Oil and Water

Chapter 4: The Rift

Kikuchiyo awoke well rested and content the next morning. For a moment, he forgot where he was and just lay on his back, listening to the birds trill their sunrise greetings. Then he remembered the previous day, and he grinned to himself. He was home, alive and whole (sort of), back amongst the people he cared about most in the world. He was welcome here, he had a place where he truly belonged, where he could heal properly and live out the rest of his days as a samurai protector. A tiny nudge of doubt entered his mind; though his life was beginning to look bright, there was just one flaw in his perfect outcome: he didn't have anyone to share it with. All the happiness in the world was meaningless if there was no one at your side to revel in it with you…unless…

Kikuchiyo gazed up at the sunlight drifting through a lifted square of thatching in the ceiling of his hut, a single face seeming to float to the forefront of his mind.

Komachi…

Had he been happy to see her? Yes. Was he excited at the prospect of living in the same village as her? Definitely. Had he expected her beauty to take his breath away when he first saw her? No. Had expected his stomach to clench, his heart to pound, or his armor to burn whenever she was near him? Definitely not. Kikuchiyo turned over on his side, one arm propping his head up and the other scratching at his back.

'You've grown up kiddo…' Again and again, two different scenarios played out in his mind, one right after the other as if no time passed between them.

'_When I grow up, I want you to be my husband_!'

'_Hurry up and get older, little Komachi, I'm gonna be your husband_!'

'_I missed you Kiku, so much_.'

_'I missed you too kiddo. I promise I'll never leave you again_.'

Kikuchiyo tossed to his other side, blowing steam out of his exhaust pipe. Why was he feeling like this? He was both anxious and guilty at the same time. He felt like his chest was hurting, but it was a good kind of hurting. He felt the need for contact, the need for someone to hold his hand. Komachi…

Kikuchiyo suddenly sat up, wincing as the effort made his bruised ribs throb. He needed air.

Komachi skipped her morning meal so she could leave the village without anyone noticing her. She quickly jogged up the path into the forest towards the empty cabin, a bowl of rice in her hands. She hoped Kikuchiyo wasn't awake yet; she hoped to surprise him with breakfast in bed. After all the excitement of yesterday she guessed he might be exhausted. As she neared the cabin, however, her footsteps slowed, and her eyes dropped to the ground. There was another reason she wanted to visit the samurai, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to admit it. The disaster of Takao's proposal the previous night had brought up feelings that were familiar and not to the young water priestess. They were feelings she'd had since she was a young girl, since she was a teenager, back when she used to read Kikuchiyo's letters late at night; the bubbly sensation in her stomach that made her heart pound whenever she thought of him. The same feelings had returned when she and Kikuchiyo had reunited, though her simple happiness of having him back in her life had numbed them. But then Takao had asked her to be his wife, and the feelings had rising to the surface like a fire through grass. And they weren't for Takao; they would be lost if she married Takao, which was why she had run.

Komachi shook her head, trying to will away the confused and swirling thoughts. She wasn't sure what she wanted right now, but she knew she needed to see Kikuchiyo. Somehow, she knew just being in his presence would put things in perspective.

When she reached the hut she knocked before entering so as not to be rude. There was no answer.

"Kiku, you awake?" she called softly. Still no answer; Komachi hesitated, then pulled the door aside. The bed inside was neatly folded over into the corner of the room, but the hut was empty. Komachi curiously turned back towards the forest, her eyes scanning the surrounding area. Where could he have gone?

Kikuchiyo gazed at the two grave sites overlooking the farm valley below, a heaviness settling on his heart. Gorobei and Kyuzou; both great warriors that had died for a noble cause. Such was the ideal death for a samurai, no matter what disposition. The mech stuck his sword into the ground, dropped his crutch to one side and sat in front of the two headstones, momentarily bowing his head in respect.

"You wouldn't have any trouble when it came to women, would you Gorobei?" Kikuchiyo sighed, absentmindedly scratching his scar. He wished he could hear what advice the performer samurai would have had for him, but alas the mech's hearing could not reach into the afterlife. So, he just imagined what Gorobei would have said had he been alive.

'_You've got to be kidding me. You? Women troubles? Don't kid yourself Kikuchiyo; any women would be lucky to have a nice guy like you._'

"But any other woman wouldn't want to have anything to do with a hunk of metal like me," Kikuchiyo replied to the imagined voice, "even if they did think I was a nice guy." He seriously hoped no one was around to hear him; they'd probably think he was talking to himself. That was all he needed; for the people of Kanna to think he was crazy.

But, maybe he was crazy…Kikuchiyo looked up at the early morning sky. The sun was being obscured by a sudden influx of fog, just like his thoughts. What if what he was feeling wasn't real? What if it was some kind of remnant side-effect of all those years spent daydreaming and accessing memory banks to pass the dull or painful portions of his recovery? But, they couldn't be…they felt too real. Kikuchiyo pulled a glove off of his left hand and studied it carefully. The red, ridged metal flexed like muscle but didn't give like flesh; it was amazing he could feel anything at all. And yet, he could feel, just like he had when he was a farmer. He could feel the gentle caress of the wind on his face, the cool wet of water dripping down his arm, the cold sting of a blade slicing down his shoulder, the burn of a bullet shearing through his chest; the soft warmth of Komachi's delicate hand brushing against his wrist… Kikuchiyo growled and pushed the thought away. He shouldn't be having such feelings for her, if that's what they really were and if she was the one they were for. Komachi was his friend, but she had once been a little girl, someone he protected and looked after like a younger sibling. She may be an adult now, and he may not have aged, but something kept blocking him with the notion that his age was still too great for someone like her. It was…inappropriate. Besides, she was whole and human, perfect. He was metal and scarred, altered. The idea of him and her…it seemed wrong, at least as far as she could be concerned. And yet…Kikuchiyo found himself wanting it even more. He kept latching onto the idea, if only to push it away again. Back before the war it was easy to think of a life with someone he cared for so much; it was perfect, since he didn't age and she thought so highly of him.

'_I love you just the way you are, Kiku._' What would have been, had he not been injured and forced to separate from her. He would have watched her grow up, watched her mature. They could have gotten to know each other more and more, so maybe things would have happened on their own, naturally. But now? He had been away for so long; he'd missed out on so many years of her life. He'd been static, but hadn't she changed? Well, no, not really. She was still excitable, still optimistic, still kind and happy and sweet. She still adored him. What had he missed out on? What could be preventing him from integrating himself into more of her life?

'She's wholly human, and she's a priestess. You are mostly metal with only a little bit of your human self left, not counting your mind and personality,' Kikuchiyo told himself sternly. She deserves better, and she probably already had better. Kikuchiyo's mind wandered to the young man Komachi had introduced to him the previous day…Takao. The way he looked daggers at Kikuchiyo; that look was from a man who felt someone moving in on his woman. Where he and Komachi together? She would have told him if she had a boyfriend, wouldn't she? Kikuchiyo growled again and put his hands to either side of his head, trying to shut out the world. He never expected returning to Kanna would be so complicated.

Komachi watched Kikuchiyo sitting alone in front of the grave sites, his hands pressed to the sides of his head, grumbling incoherently to himself. Seeing him so distraught brought a fresh well of concern to her throat. Was he hurting more than he let on?

'Maybe I should have tackled him so hard yesterday,' she thought worriedly. She wanted to approach him, but she felt unsure about interrupting whatever he was thinking about. She thought she heard him mumble something but couldn't make it out. She considered turning back to the village, leaving the rice bowl on the hill for him later, but then the memory of Takao flashed in her mind. Komachi quickly turned back to the grave sites and strode towards the samurai; she needed to be comforted, and Kikuchiyo's was the only kind she would accept.

Kikuchiyo heard small footsteps coming rapidly towards him and quickly straightened up, taking his hands off of the sides of his head. He didn't need to turn to see who was approaching; he recognized her scent almost instantly. Komachi came to a halt beside him, a large bowl of rice clasped in her hands, her head bowed in the presence of the grave sites. Kikuchiyo watched her out of the corner of his visor, noting her trembling knees and awkward stance. He caught sight of the dousing crystal hanging from her wrist. He thought he saw a glimmer within the crystal's depths.

"Good morning," Komachi said quietly, breaking the silence. Kikuchiyo allowed himself a small smile at her gentle voice. It was so calming, despite the storm brewing in his processor.

"'Morning kiddo," he greeted, finally turning his head to look at her. A breath caught in his throat when he saw how shiny her eyes were; they were too shiny, like tears were threatening to pool there. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, instinctively reaching up to touch her elbow. An electric current seemed to pass between the two of them, sparked by the simple contact. Komachi looked down at him, her face somewhat cowed.

"Do you mind if I sit with you, Kiku?" she asked hastily, as though worried he would reject her. Kikuchiyo balked, but nodded all the same. He sensed something was wrong, and though he didn't show it, it worried him.

"Of course; have a seat, Sapling." He patted the ground beside him. Komachi plopped down onto the soft dirt, placing the rice bowl before him almost reverently.

"I thought you might want some breakfast," she said, somewhat evasively. Kikuchiyo looked down at her, but she didn't meet his gaze, so he simply placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair.

"Thanks a lot kiddo," he said heartily, giving her a robot-smile. She smiled up at him, but it didn't seem like the joyous, happy smile she had given him nonstop the previous day. Kikuchiyo puffed steam from his pipe. "What's the matter?" he asked, leaning down to get a good look at her face. His close proximity made her blush, and she turned her eyes back down.

"Nothing…It's just….oh, I don't know," she said, tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Komachi gulped and nodded. Kikuchiyo scooted closer to her, shifted his weight to one arm. "Come on Sapling; tell me what's eatin' you." Komachi sniffed, and leaned her head against his arm, one hand reaching up to grip his sleeve. Kikuchiyo felt his armor burn where she touched him, and a stifling heat rose in his face. He fought hard to keep the steam threatening to burst from his vents down in his systems. If he blew steam now it would be horribly embarrassing. Komachi sighed, and he felt her nuzzle his arm with her cheek.

"Last night…after I said good-night to you, I was on my way home and I ran into Takao." Kikuchiyo listened intently; he'd never heard her talk so softly before; it was unnerving.

"Isn't he your friend?" he asked. Komachi nodded.

"Yes. He asked me to walk with him, and I went along…He pulled me aside and…he…" Kikuchiyo's protective instincts kicked in; something was telling him whatever had happened had distressed Komachi greatly. He hoped the young man hadn't done anything to hurt her feelings.

"What happened?" he asked, a little harsher than he meant. Komachi tensed, her grip on his sleeve tightening.

"…He asked me to marry him."

Kikuchiyo stiffened. He hadn't expected that answer, but he reacted strongly to it. So, that guy did have a thing for Komachi…He wasn't okay with that, and he wished he could express that. Komachi turned her head slightly so that half of her face was buried in his sleeve. He felt the hot wet of tears staining the fabric above his metal armor. She was crying. He reached over and put his hand over hers.

"What did you say?" he asked, trying to sound casual. She shook her head, taking a moment to swallow. He waited.

"I…I said no," she whispered. "I couldn't agree to him….I don't want to marry Takao. He's like my brother, and I just can't love him like he says he loves me." Some part of Kikuchiyo he wanted to acknowledge but felt bad at doing so felt both relief and triumph. So, she wasn't into that guy…

"Is he mad at you?" he asked. Komachi shook her head again, giving a little hiccup.

"I don't know; I haven't seen him this morning." Her grip on his sleeve tightened again, and she shifted closer so that the right side of her body was pressed against his arm. Kikuchiyo's insides clenched and he fought another round of steam threatening to blow out his vents.

"Well, I'm sorry that happened…wish I had more to say, but I'm not very good with this kinda thing." Komachi sighed and wrapped her other arm around his, so that his ungloved hand brushed against her thigh. Kikuchiyo tensed, but found he couldn't pull away. He was her only source of security right now, and he couldn't deprive her of that. She was obviously hurting.

"Kiku," she said softly, gripping his arm tightly.

"Hm?"

"You know why I refused Takao?" Kikuchiyo's heart started to pound, and the heat in his systems started to grow uncomfortable. His visual feed was bombarded by a message that flashed in red,

_Overheating imminent. Release pressure._

He didn't want to, but he knew if he didn't let the steam out his preservation systems would override his conscious program and release it automatically. Komachi didn't seem to notice his discomfort. "I don't love him, but that's not the only reason why I refused him."

"Yeah? Why else?"

Komachi had no idea why she was suddenly compelled to say what she was saying. But right now, being so close to Kikuchiyo, it was like those feelings she had been wondering at were suddenly taking over, controlling her tongue and compelling her to speak. Her heart pounded uncontrollably and she blushed furiously, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. She had to speak this. He had to know.

Kikuchiyo felt Komachi snuggle closer, the hand gripping his forearm sliding down to clasp his bare wrist. The warmth of her skin over his armor made him shudder.

'Stop it! Don't lose it when she's right here!'

"Do you remember the promises we made to each other?" she asked, her voice a wistful sigh. Kikuchiyo gulped.

"Yeah, I remember. How could I forget?"

"I still have your scroll."

"Oh, uh, good." She sighed again.

"Do you remember the promise you made me?" Kikuchiyo ground his lower jaw against his upper jaw, wishing he wasn't so distracted by the pressure buildup so that he could better think how to handle the situation. He knew where she was going with this; he'd been thinking it almost as soon as she mentioned Takao's supposed proposal. The problem was he was being pulled in two different directions: one wanted him to say that he intended to keep the promise, and the other demanding that he not even think about keeping such a promise. It was inappropriate. It was what he wanted. He wasn't right for her. She was all he needed in this world. Dammit.

"I…remember," he said carefully. Komachi somehow found a way to move closer to him.

"Kiku, I—"

"Komachi, please," he said tightly, gripping her hand in his. "I…I don't know if I can."

"Why not?"

"I…I don't know…It's been so long since you asked me that…It's been sixteen years, Sapling."

"So?"

"So, I've been gone for all those years. I missed all those years of your life. Even if it's not Takao, there must have been someone else; someone better."

He suddenly felt her rise to her knees and slip her arms around his shoulders, one hand draped over his broad back and the other resting against his wide chest. His frame shuddered, and the pressure in his vents reached a painful level. Komachi rested her cheek against the back of his head, leaning heavily against him. He felt her lithe, soft form against his.

"There's never been anyone else," she whispered. Kikuchiyo groaned, both in discomfort and in frustration.

"There has to have been," he snarled, refusing to look at her. If he looked at her he wouldn't be able to deny her any more, although he was doing a pretty poor job at it right now. Komachi turned her head and leaned her cheek against his, unperturbed by his fake anger.

"It's always been you, Kiku," she whispered. Kikuchiyo couldn't take it anymore. Steam exploded from his exhaust pipe, as well as from the vents in his neck and mouth. To her credit, Komachi bore the sudden vapor blast without so much as a flinch. "I wouldn't want anyone else," she continued when he had blown himself out. Kikuchiyo groaned again, oily tears welling in his visor ducts. Why was she making this so hard? "You're the only one, Kiku. I—"

"Don't," he said firmly, clenching his fists. "Please don't. You don't know what you're asking. I don't think I…I'm not…I can't…" Komachi wouldn't be swayed. She leaned in, aiming to kiss his metal mouth, or the solid spot where his upper and lower jaws met. But Kikuchiyo couldn't, he couldn't let her. Not like this. He turned away.

Komachi paused, sensing his disquiet. Maybe she was moving too fast for him. She certainly felt a little flustered herself, despite the confidence she was trying to display. If his steam was anything to go by, he was probably feeling overwhelmed by her sudden forwardness. Perhaps he needed time. Komachi redirected herself and gently kissed his metal cheek. It was so warm, almost hot; she felt him twist beneath her, like he was fighting the instinct to move away but at the same time didn't want to. The part of him she could sense didn't want to turn away was the part she clung to; he wanted her, she could feel it. She pulled her lips away from his cheek and rested her forehead against his helm.

"Think about it," she said softly, and then she stood. She wanted to give him some space, as painful as the prospect of leaving him was. She brushed her fingers through his short hair and along his shoulder, then turned and took her leave, ignoring the ache in her heart.

Kikuchiyo exhaled another cloud of steam along with an actual breath. As Komachi's scent faded along with her footsteps, he looked back up at the sky, finally giving the oily tears permission to flow.

'Dammit,' he thought furiously, 'what the hell is wrong with me? Why can't this be easy? Killing Nobuseri bandits and capitol guards is easier than this.' He cast his visual range down to the bowl of rice sitting in front of him, Komachi's offering for a morning meal. He picked it up and dumped the grain into his mouth, chewing angrily.

Keeping a promise he desperately wanted to fulfill should be easier than this.

In a tree near the crest of base of the cliff that held the grave site, Takao watched Komachi leave the mech samurai alone. She headed down the path leading to the forest, back towards the forest. She looked drawn, but not sad. Rather, she seemed resigned, like she was willing to wait for something important. Her usual bouncy energy was gone; she was resigned. Takao clenched a fist and slammed it against the bark of the tree, gritting his teeth so hard an angry grinding slid out from them. This was not how things were supposed to be. He wouldn't let this go any further.

Komachi followed her dousing crystal to the river that fed the irrigation fields, running through the forest down into the rice paddies. She knelt on the rocky bank and dipped her hands into the water, reveling in the coolness soaking her skin, and splashed her face. She sighed contentedly; cuddling up close to Kikuchiyo in his agitated state had left her feeling a little feverish. She still felt feverish, but at least now it wasn't form being so warm. Her mind felt hazy instead of tumultuous now, as if she had exhausted her nervousness. All that she had said to him had been true, but she still couldn't believe she'd had the courage to admit it. It just kind of happened. Sighing, Komachi sat back on her knees, staring up into the sky as the water streamed down her neck. She hoped Kikuchiyo wasn't angry with her; even though his reaction had suggested so, she'd gotten the sense that he was afraid rather than angry. But, why was he afraid? She ran over what he'd said in her head, trying to discern the reasoning behind his words.

'_You don't know what you're asking._' She knew perfectly well what she was asking; maybe that's why he was scared.

'_I don't know if I…I'm not…I can't…_' Maybe he was worried that being a machine would prevent them from being intimate. She giggled at the idea; him being a mech was part of the reason she was drawn to him…was that a bad thing? Komachi shook the water out of her hair and rubbed her eyes. A small smirk crossed her mouth. As tough as Kikuchiyo was, she knew she got under his skin; she always had. Eventually he'd realize he couldn't resist her and he'd give in to his feelings; she'd already given in to hers. Komachi laughed out loud at the thought of Kikuchiyo running to her and confessing his feelings. The idea was positively ridiculous, but it gave her butterflies anyway.

"What's so funny?" Komachi started horribly, looking around wildly for the origin of the voice. Her eyes caught on someone approaching from downriver, her gate uneasy and swaying.

"Onee-chan!" she cried, blushing crimson as Kirara came to stand beside her by the water. Kirara smiled down at her sister, a knowing gleam in her eye. Komachi reluctantly met her gaze, biting her lip.

"What were you giggling about?" Kirara asked, placing her hands on her hips. Komachi self-consciously tugged at the tassels on her headdress.

"Nothing," she muttered, dropping her gaze back down to the water. Kirara made an unconvinced sound and carefully lowered herself down to sit beside her sister, one hand securely on her belly. Komachi smiled and rubbed Kirara's bulge. "Do you want it to be a boy or a girl?" she asked, glad to have an excuse to change the subject. Kirara raised an eyebrow at her, catching on to her evasive move.

"I don't really know," she said, adding her own rubbing alongside Komachi's. "Tetsuo wants a boy, but he's said a girl would be alright too." Komachi looked at her older sister. Kirara's tone always seemed to change whenever she mentioned her husband, like he was an unpleasant memory she would rather suppress.

"Why did you marry him?" she asked. Kirara paused, her eyes growing distant. Komachi shifted to fully face her, crossing her arms. "You obviously don't love him, yet you're carrying his child. Is it just because you need to pass on the water priestess line? Or is it because you know Kambei will never come back?" Kirara's gaze tightened at the samurai's name, and she clenched her hand into a fist over her belly. Komachi's scowl grew deep.

"Why didn't you ever make up with Katsushiro? He comes around twice a month to visit Heihachi, and he asks about you every time, though he tries to act like he doesn't care. He's never been with anyone all these years. Even if you plan on staying with Tetsuo, why can't you at least try to make up with him?" Kirara didn't answer at first, her teeth clamped under her lips. Then she turned her head so her long bangs covered her eyes.

"It's…more complicated than that," she said quietly. "I know you don't understand, and I don't expect you to. You don't need to, so don't try."

"Why not?" Komachi snapped, suddenly irritated. "What happened between you and Kambei? He told you he didn't love you, but you still tried to get him to stay. You hurt Katsushiro, you know. I don't understand why you preferred Kambei instead of him, but I do know some part of you wishes you had chosen differently. Why choose a third route and marry a man you don't even love? What's the point in being miserable for the rest of your life?"

"Please stop, Komachi!" Kirara cried, her voice shrill. Komachi gasped and shut her mouth, stunned. Kirara's shoulders trembled, and she bit her lip hard, trying to keep tears from forming. She didn't say anything for a few moments, trying to rein in her turmoil. Komachi's throat tightened; she seriously hoped she hadn't hurt her sister's feelings. "Please, don't ask me anymore," Kirara said, a little bit more calmly. "I wish I could tell you everything, but now is not the time. I don't even know where to begin." She looked back up and took Komachi's hand in both of hers. "I promise I'll tell you everything at some point, but I'd rather not think about all that right now. It's just too painful, and it's not good for the baby for me to be upset. Besides, we need to talk about you." She gave Komachi a corner-of-eye look. "I know Takao asked you to be his wife, and I know you turned him down."

Komachi's heart jumped up into her throat. Her sister knew about Takao? More frightening to her was the question of whether or not she knew about Kikuchiyo. What would she think?

"You…know?" she asked. "How did you find out?" Kirara grimaced. "Many of us have known that he was planning on proposing to you for a few days now." Komachi's heart jumped up again, this time into her mouth.

"Wha…How…Why didn't you tell me?" The last part came out as an accusation. If Kirara had known someone was going to propose to her sister, shouldn't she have told her? Maybe she could have helped her figure out how to let him down a little gentler. Kirara sighed.

"Well, I thought he was going to do it yesterday morning. When you reacted the way you did to Kikuchiyo's arrival, I guessed he wasn't able to. This morning I overheard him talking to his brothers and friends about what happened last night. He…wasn't pleased." Komachi groaned, tugging at her hair.

"Did everybody know about this?"

"No, just our family, his family, and his friends, and Rikichi and Sanae." Komachi groaned again.

"Is anyone upset?"

"Well, Takao is, for sure. But, the thing is…" She paused, biting her lip again, looking anxious. Komachi's stomach dropped down; she didn't like that look.

"What?"

"Well, everyone expected you to accept his offer. His family and friends were really excited about it. I knew you wouldn't though; I knew you didn't love him that way." Komachi stared at her.

"Then, why didn't you tell him I'd refuse?" she demanded, slapping the rock beside her in anger. "If he knew ahead of time he could have saved himself from heartbreak! It felt awful to turn him down." Kirara put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but I needed to let you two figure it out on your own. You're still young; you need to make your own mistakes." Komachi sighed.

"What about everyone else? Are they mad at me?" Kirara grimaced again.

"I know his brothers and friends aren't too happy with you. They think you're not giving him a chance."

"But I don't love him!"

"I know, but I guess they think it makes most sense for you two to be married. They're just sympathetic to him, that's all. But I want you to remember something." She took Komachi's hand again and gripped it tightly. "You can't let anyone pressure you into changing your mind, not even Takao. I know he's your friend, but your heart belongs to you, so you know what's best for it." Komachi didn't know what to say. When had she ever allowed anyone to pressure her into anything? The very idea was abhorrent.

"I know that, but why are you telling me this?" Kirara shook her head, tears suddenly coming to her eyes again.

"Because I know how you feel about Kikuchiyo. I've always known." Komachi's eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"How the…How can you…?"

"Oh, come on, Komachi!" Kirara said, exasperated. "You wouldn't leave his side when he arrived; you two spent the whole day together; you two were never out of contact during the feast. I've seen the way you look at him…It's different than how you looked at him as a child." Komachi blushed again and broke eye contact, looking down into the river.

"Well, you know, and he knows too," she said quietly. "I don't see what that has to do with Takao." Kirara sighed again.

"I'm just saying…Don't deny your heart, Komachi." Komachi closed her eyes and shook her head, a small smile crossing her mouth.

"Don't worry; I fully intend to keep to my word, and I know Kiku will keep to his." Kirara watched at her for a long time.

"Just…Be careful," she said finally. Komachi looked at her. Kirara smiled sadly, patted her cheek, then laboriously got to her feet, grunting at the strain her pregnancy put on her back. She gave Komachi one last smile, then left, picking her way carefully up the bank. Komachi watched her sister go, a stone settling in her stomach. Everyone expected her to marry Takao? Well, they were going to have to live with disappointment, because that wasn't going to happen.

Komachi sat by the river until the sun was high, listening to the whispers of the water against the rocks. When there was no shadow at her back she decided to head home. Maybe she'd drop by Kikuchiyo's hut to see if he'd cooled of at all. But as soon as she thought it, she decided to head in the opposite direction, towards the village. He needed more time; when he was ready, he would find her. Komachi passed under a thick copse of trees, the shade unusually dark for the time of day, when she felt an odd prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She paused, listening. The birds had ceased chirping. She looked down to see her dowsing crystal was glow an odd shade of green. It wasn't a good color. There was a rustle in the bushes behind her. Komachi gulped, then slowly turned around. The bush rustled furiously, and Takao burst out of it, coughing and shaking his head to dislodge the leaves. Komachi jumped, then made and irritated noise and gave him a shove on the arm.

"God, Takao-kun, don't scare me like that!" she snapped, glaring at him. Takao coughed again and brushed some more leaves from his shirt, then looked up to stare at her. Komachi's glare softened a bit. The poor guy looked terribly sad, his brow drawn and there were shadows under his eyes, which were red and puffy—probably from crying. Komachi sighed and walked over to place a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked gently. He gazed back at her, and shook his head dejectedly, his bottom lip quivering.

"Why, Komachi-chan?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Why don't you want to be with me? I love you so much I can't stand it. What did I do to make you angry?" Komachi inhaled shakily, trying to fight her own tears. Why did he have to look so pitiful?

"Look, Takao-kun, I'm really sorry; truly I am. I wish I could make things easier. But, it's not you, okay? You haven't done anything wrong. Having feelings for someone isn't wrong…at all…" Her thoughts drifted to Kikuchiyo. "But I don't have the same feelings for you. If I agreed to marry you, I'd only be lying to you, and I won't do that. I still think of you as my friend." She smiled gently. "It's going to be okay, Takao-kun. You'll find someone better, someone who can make you happy." Takao stared at her, his eyes haunted.

"But, I don't want anyone else," he said hoarsely. "I want you." Komachi sighed again and shook her head. She opened her mouth to reply again, but then Takao's face suddenly darkened, and his shoulders trembled. She watched his hands ball into fists, so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Takao-kun?" she asked tentatively. He glared at her.

"It's that samurai, isn't it?" he spat, his harsh tone surprising her into taking her hand off his shoulder.

"What?"

"That metal samurai. I saw you with him by the grave sites earlier. You two were getting pretty close." Komachi blushed and her tears instantly evaporated, her mouth tightening into a line.

"You were spying on us?!" she asked shrilly. The very idea seemed horribly invasive, even if it was Takao….no, _especially_ if it was Takao. "How could you? That was…a private moment!" She blushed even deeper and stamped her foot in anger. "I can't believe you would do that, Takao! I thought you were my friend!"

"It would never work, you know," Takao said, his voice deadly. She stared at him, mouth open.

"What…did you say?"

"It'll never work, you and him. He's not right for you, Komachi." Komachi's eyes widened. She couldn't even think of what to say. Takao took advantage of her silence. "He's a mecha, just like the Nobuseri; I bet he doesn't have real feelings." He stepped closer and gripped her arms in both his hands. "He could hurt you, Komachi." Komachi shook herself, and glowered at him, her anger rising.

"How dare you!?" she shrieked, wrenching herself from his grip. She had a strong compulsion to smack him, but the reasonable part of her brain prevented her from acting on it. "Who are you to tell me who's right for me or not? Who I want to be with is my business, not yours!" Takao held his venomous gaze, unabashed.

"He's not human, Komachi," he hissed, stepping closer. She stepped back, uncomfortable. "He could never give you what you want, what you need." His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. "I could give you what you need." Komachi gasped and tried to tug her hand back, but his grip held fast, like steel.

"Takao, let go!" she ordered, pulling as hard as she could away from him. His grip would not be broken. "Let go of me!" He stared at her with cold, hallowed eyes, his lip curled in a snarl. It was frightening. "I said LET GO!" She whipped her free hand around to hit him, but he caught her wrist in his free hand and squeezed it painfully, making her gasp. "Ow! Stop, Takao!" Takao leaned back and swirled her around to slam up against a tree, pinning her hands on either side of her. His gaze was impassive.

"I'm not letting you go," he said. "I won't let you make such a stupid mistake. You belong with me, Komachi." Komachi screamed and struggled frantically against him. She kicked his shins and knees, but he didn't budge.

"Let go of me, damn you!"

"No." Her heart pounded and blood roared in her ears. This was bad. This was very, very bad. She was in danger. Komachi looked desperately around but there was no one in the area; no one around to help her. Unless….

Komachi filled her lungs and screamed as loud as she could.

"KIKU!" she hollered, loud enough that Takao winced. "KIKU! HELP ME! HELP!" Takao let out an almost feral growl, then suddenly released one of Komachi's hands to punch her right in the jaw. The strike hit a nerve and Komachi crumpled, slumping unconscious down the tree trunk. Takao held her up by one wrist, then leaned down and slung her over his shoulders. He gripped her tightly and headed into the thick of the forest, treading lightly.

"Don't say his name," he said quietly, even though the water priestess was out cold, "ever."


	6. Chapter 5: The Devotion

Whew! Sorry about that; this one took longer than I expected. Of course, it's the longest chapter in the story so far! *^*. Warning: this chapter contains violence, swearing, a little gore, and some uncomfortable situations. YE'VE BEEN WARNED. Enjoy!

P.S. I'd like to thank everyone from the wonderful comments. *sniff* _You guys...make it all worthwhile_ TuT.

Oil and Water

Chapter 5: The Devotion

It was late afternoon when Kikuchiyo decided to head back to the village. The sun was stretching its fingers out over the forest in an attempt to slow its descent towards the horizon. He shoved his sword into the loop on his shoulder and limped heavily into the forest, the events of the day weighing more heavily on him than his bruised ribs. He felt as if there was an imprint on his arm and shoulders where Komachi had been, as though she had burned her very presence onto his armor. It was both maddening and comforting. On one hand he missed having her beside him; on the other he knew she shouldn't be. The two arguments tossed back and forth inside his processor-brain like stray bullets. He wanted her. He couldn't have her. He needed her. He didn't deserve her. It was enough to drive him over the edge.

Kikuchiyo neglected to turn down the footpath leading to his hut, wanting to sooth the dry heat in his metal throat with water from the village well. Maybe he would find Rikichi and ask him for advice, since he'd had to deal with a brainwashed wife. He considered visiting Heihachi afterwards; maybe the retired samurai would have advice on matters of the heart. When he crossed the threshold, however, Kikuchiyo found his progress suddenly blocked by a scowling Okara.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, grinning down at the tomboy. Okara's expression didn't lighten at the sight of the metal samurai. She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him impatiently. "What?"

"Have you seen Komachi anywhere?" Okara asked, tapping her toe. Kikuchiyo started.

"Why? When was the last time you saw her?"

"She cut out early this morning so I didn't get the chance to see her. I figured she went to visit you." Kikuchiyo scratched his weld-scar thoughtfully.

"Well, she did…We hung out at the grave sites for a bit this morning, but then she left. I haven't seen her since." Okara made an annoyed noise and shook her head, crossing her arms. Just then, Kirara came swaggering up to the two of them, her face distraught and anxious. She looked up hopefully when she saw Kikuchiyo, and quickly moved to clasp his hand.

"Oh, Kikuchiyo, have you seen Komachi?" she asked, her tone so desperate Kikuchiyo's wiring twisted.

"No, not since this morning; when was the last time you saw her?"

"Just before midday; she was by the river. No one's seen her since then." Kikuchiyo stared at the woman, his heart starting to pound painfully.

"Is everyone looking for her?" he asked. Kirara nodded, her eyes starting to water.

"It's around the time she leads the rain prayer," she said shakily. "We haven't had rain in a while and Rikichi asked her at the feast to lead us in a prayer…only she never showed up." Kirara put a hand to her mouth, trembling and on the verge of tears. "We've looked all over the village grounds. Heihachi hasn't seen her; the bridge guards haven't seen her. She's not in the fields, she's not at Wing Rock, and she's not in the forest! Oh, what if something happened to her!" Kirara gasped and covered her eyes. Kikuchiyo put a hand on her shoulder, unsure of how to help the woman. He looked around and saw that there were villagers moving about restlessly, taking in worried voice, occasionally calling Komachi's name, ands coming and going in different directions. He couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to stay at the grave site the whole day; if he hadn't been so absorbed in his own thoughts he might have seen where Komachi went.

"Hey, Okara-chan!" A group of young men wearing matching brown belts worked their way through a cluster of huts to Okara's side, looks of both determination and worry on their faces. Okara glanced at them, obviously not really interested in their presence.

"What, Panko?" she asked a burly youth at the head of the group. He had the same pale complexion and shaggy black hair as Takao. The youth held a plaintive hand out to her.

"Have you seen Takao anywhere?" he asked, his tone concerned. Okara blinked, suddenly perplexed.

"No, why?" she said warily. "I haven't seen him all day. We're looking for Komachi."

"Takao's been missing since early this morning."

Kikuchiyo stiffened when he heard this. He turned and limped up to stand right in front of the young man, his bulk looming over him. The young man stared up at the samurai, eyes wide.

"When this morning?" Kikuchiyo asked, his voice sharpening to an edge without him meaning it to. Panko stuttered slightly.

"I…Well…Um..." Kikuchiyo growled and leaned over him, so that the young man had to lean backward.

"When. Did. You. See. Him?" Kikuchiyo repeated, his words coming out in harsh chops.

Panko flinched and shook his head. The boys behind him stepped back a few feet, their hands up.

"Just before sunrise, I think!" he said shrilly, putting his hands up as well. Kikuchiyo let out an impatient snarl and seized the front of his tunic, lifting him off the ground so that he was eye-to-visor with him. Kirara gasped and rushed forward to grab the mech's arm.

"Kikuchiyo, don't hurt him!" she pleaded. Kikuchiyo ignored her.

"What did he say?" Kikuchiyo demanded, shaking the boy. Panko whimpered, his face turning paler.

"He…He told us how Komachi turned him down last night, when he asked her to marry him," the young man confessed. "He was upset; he said he wanted to try and change her mind!"

"How did he plan to do that?" Kikuchiyo barked, giving him another shake.

"I-I don't know! He asked where she went and I told him I'd seen her pass through the forest towards the grave sites. He said he was going to try and talk some sense into her." He tugged at the samurai's metal hands. "That's all I know, I swear! He's my little brother; I'm just worried about him!" Kikuchiyo grunted and dropped the young man, snarling in agitation. Panko retreated back to where his friends were huddled by a nearby hut, his eyes bulging. Kirara tugged at Kikuchiyo's sleeve, her face both worried and disapproving.

"I won't say I approved that, but now I'm concerned. You didn't see Takao anywhere near the grave site, did you?" Kikuchiyo shook his head, clenching his fists.

"No, but that doesn't mean he wasn't there. Dammit, little twerp! If he's hurt her, I'll—"

"Takao wouldn't hurt Komachi," Okara said firmly. "They're best friends; we've known him since we were kids." Kikuchiyo's visor glowed impatiently.

"If he took her rejection badly, he could be dangerous," he growled. Kirara wrung her hands nervously.

"He was pretty upset this morning. I thought he might try to pressure her, but he wouldn't go so far as to hurt her…would he?" Kikuchiyo huffed; he wasn't willing to wait and find out. With an angry blast of steam the mech samurai lumbered back towards the forest, drawing his sword and slinging it over his shoulder. Kirara and Okara quickly followed him to the village threshold. Kirara blocked his way before he could cross into the forest.

"Move, Kirara," Kikuchiyo growled. He loomed imposingly over her, his visor glowing bright orange. The elder water priestess stood her ground.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, steadily meeting his fiery gaze.

"I'm going to find Komachi."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What are you going to do if you find Takao?" Kikuchiyo snorted.

"If he's not involved I won't do anything to him. But, if he is…" He let out another blast of steam. Kirara gave him a steely look.

"How do you plan on finding her, or them?" she asked. Kikuchiyo chuckled ominously and tapped the front of his face plate.

"I'm a hound dog, remember? I'll smell 'em out." He revved the chainsaw motor on his sword for effect. "Now, _move_." Kirara gazed at him for a few more moments, then reluctantly stepped aside.

"Go then," she said quietly. "Find my sister…Make sure she's alright." Kikuchiyo stomped out of the village into the forest, grinding his jaws together as he searched for Komachi's scent.

"Count on it," he said under his breath.

Komachi's head throbbed so horribly it jostled her out of unconsciousness. She sat up, gasping for air, even though she wasn't out of breath at all, and then groaned at the pain lacing her body. She was so stiff; it was like she'd spent hours in the fields. Her jaw ached from where Takao had punched her. She tried to take in a few breaths to calm herself, but found it was difficult to draw in any large amount of air. Something was blocking her mouth. She raised a hand to feel the obstruction, only to find her other hand dragged up with it. A length of rope bound her wrists together. She felt at her mouth and found it covered by a cloth tied around behind her jaw. She tried to move, but found that her ankles were tied as well; she couldn't shift from the awkward position she found herself in.

Komachi looked around. She was sitting in a hut like any other in Kanna village; nondescript, maybe two rooms counting the one she was in now, and one door as an entrance/exit. The bed she sat on was a simple two-quilt futon. There were no decorations on the walls and the windows were covered. She could be anywhere in Kanna.

Komachi wriggled about, furiously trying to wrench her hands and ankles free of the ropes, but the knots had been tied by an expert hand; they wouldn't budge. She tried to scream for help, but the fabric was too tight around her mouth and muffled any sound she made. The imprisonment is positively suffocating.

Just then, the front door slid open, revealing a couple rays of evening sunset. A figure passed in front of the sun from the outside, the glare temporarily hiding him in shadow. Then he stepped inside and slid the door shut, cutting the sun off again.

'Oh spirits and gods,' she thought desperately, tears gathering in her eyes. It was Takao. He carried a lantern, which he placed in the front corner of the room after removing his sandals. He looked up and smiled at Komachi. It was a manic smile, eyes wide and cheeks taut, too many of his teeth showing; it was terrifying.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he said softly, approaching her with measured steps. Komachi froze as he knelt down beside her, but she couldn't stop her shoulders from trembling. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her brow. Komachi flinched away from him, whimpering. "Oh, hey, don't be like that," he said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. She stared at him from the corner of her eye, his frightening manic smile blurred by tears. "Sorry about the punch earlier; I got a little carried away." He ran a finger over her bruised jaw, causing flaring pain in the top of her head that mixed with the heavy sting of the bruise. Komachi's cry was muffled by the cloth around her mouth. He pouted and removed his finger. "I thought you were tougher than that, Komachi-chan," he whined. Anger caught flame in Komachi's brain at the sound of her name crossing his lips, and she turned her head to glare at him. She tried to shout a few choice words at him, but they couldn't make it past the cloth. "Oh, wait, hold on." Takao carefully pulled the cloth down so it was sat just below her chin. Komachi gasped and let out an angry shout, making Takao pull back, clutching his ears.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Komachi snarled, thrashing her bound hands about in an attempt to strike the young man. Takao leaned just out of reach, his smile turning playful.

"I just thought we needed some time alone," he said simply. With the speed of a snake he grabbed her bound wrists and held them down to the side, so that she was pulled awkwardly face-to-face with him. "You know, so we can get to know one another better. I'm sure if you just give us some time, you'll realize we fit perfectly together." Komachi's eyes widened, her heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears.

"I already told you, I don't love you," she said slowly, trying to pull away. Takao simply leaned his weight on her wrists, holding her in place.

"Well I think I can change that," he murmured. Slowly, he brought his free hand over to rest on Komachi's thigh. He slipped his hand under the fabric of her skirt-shorts so that his cold palm pressed against her skin. Her throat tightened and she wanted so much to recoil at the unwanted contact. However, her better reasoning told her the best thing to do right now would be to remain calm. The last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him. Maybe there was still room to reason.

"Takao, think about what you're doing," she said, as steady as she could. She did her best to keep the near-panic out of her voice. "Someone's going to realize we're missing eventually, and they'll come looking for us. This is something you don't want to be caught doing." Takao's smile widened slyly.

"Believe me, no one is going to find us here; hardly anyone in Kanna even remembers this hut still exists. It was built before the Nobuseri moved into these parts. We're completely alone." Komachi forced down the terror that rose in her chest, and decided it was time to start using threats.

"Takao, if you don't let me go right now I'm going to scream," she said, trying to sound confident. Takao chuckled evilly.

"There's no one around to hear you," he said, rubbing her thigh with his thumb. "It would be a waste of energy." Komachi took a few deep breaths and worked her face into a blank mask.

"I mean it," she replied. "If you don't untie me, I will scream." Takao's eyes darkened and he clenched the hand he held at her thigh. The action was painful but Komachi ignored it, holding his gaze.

"Please don't," he said quietly. Komachi stared at him, then screamed as loudly as she could, straining her vocal chords to reach their very peak. Takao winced and drew back for a moment, clutching his ears. Komachi shuffled away from him and drew just enough breath to give her scream a name.

"KIIIIIIIIKUUUUUCHIYOOOOO!" she hollered, cupping her hands around her mouth to try and give the scream more volume. But Komachi's scream was abruptly cut off when something struck her hard across the face. The impact was so great she toppled over onto her side, her scream turning into a strangled gasp. She looked around to see Takao standing over her, his hand still raised and his palm pink from the slap. His eyes were wild, his smile was gone and his teeth were bared; he was shaking with rage. Any trace of Komachi's voice died in her throat.

"I told you never to say his name," he snarled, "ever. You say it again I swear I'll hit you harder." A part of Komachi hopefully argued that such a threat was light compared to what he could have said, but the notion wasn't very reassuring. Takao leaned down and pulled Komachi back up into a sitting position, and then quickly yanked the cloth back up over her mouth to prevent any further outbursts. She shook her head and tried to shout, even though she knew no words would escape the smother. Takao stared at her for a moment, crouched beside her. He seemed to compose himself after a few breaths, and just like that his smile returned. He stroked her cheek lovingly, making the struck skin sting. Komachi cringed and shuddered in revulsion.

"Sorry about that," he said again. "I need to work on that anger thing. I promise I won't do it again as long as you keep quiet." He smiled at her, and Komachi wriggled under the intent of his gaze. She tried to look away, but he clutched her chin between his thumb and index finger and pulled her face back towards his. "I need to go get some water from the creek, but I promise I'll be back soon." He slipped his thumb up over the cloth and pulled it down to expose her lips again. Before Komachi could open her mouth to vocalize, Takao pressed his lips against hers in a forced, unwelcome kiss. Komachi squirmed and whimpered in protest at the sudden contact; his lips were cold and dry, like he hadn't had enough to drink in a while. He held her in place with his free hand planted on her shoulder, then broke the kiss and pulled the fabric back over her mouth before more than a huff could escape. "Love you," he said sweetly, then stood up and walked out of the hut without another word.

Komachi stared at the door where Takao had exited. Tears gathered in her eyes again and she slumped, her shoulders trembling as the hopeless sobs overtook her. She clasped her bound hands together and began to pray. She prayed for her life, for her freedom, for her womanly rights, and she prayed that someone, anyone, would find her.

The sun set quickly and the stars awoke soon after, leaving the Kanna forest in almost total darkness. Kikuchiyo pushed his way through the undergrowth, sniffing furiously at the air. He'd picked up Komachi's scent halfway up the path that led to the river, then followed it straight into the forest. He blew out several furious stacks of steam when he realized there was a second person's scent mixed in with hers. Even though he'd only met him once, Kikuchiyo was sure it was Takao's scent he discerned.

"That little bastard," he snarled to himself as he trudged between the thick birch trees. "If he's so much as touched her I'll slice him in two." Of course, there was a possibility that Komachi had gone with Takao willingly; she could have decided to go on a friendly walk with him or something. She might have even decided she wanted to give him a chance with the whole marriage thing… Kikuchiyo gnashed his jaws together and shoved the thought away. Komachi had said herself she didn't want to marry the guy, so why would she give him any chance? Besides, she'd already said how she felt about…him. Kikuchiyo's mind wandered back to the conversation at the grave site, how Komachi had sought out his comfort and companionship; how she had leaned on him and confessed her worries and feelings…He remembered how close she came, how honest her words had been. She'd stated very clearly how she felt about him, and she'd even tried to kiss him.

'And I just shut her down,' he thought bitterly. Maybe that was why she was with Takao; maybe she was hurt when he hadn't reciprocated her feelings. Kikuchiyo's steps slowed until he paused under a tree, his feet sinking into the grass at its base. It was nearly pitch black around him, but his visor was equipped with a night-vision setting; the light from his visor illuminated the leaves and branches hanging around his face. Should have he been more open with Komachi? Maybe if he hadn't been such a coward she wouldn't have felt the need to go to someone else…Is that why she was gone?

Kikuchiyo leaned against the tree, his thoughts becoming more tortuous by the second. Had he really chased her away? He didn't mean to; he was scared for her, and for himself. He wanted to keep his promise, but he was afraid of what that would mean for her, her health and status among her people. It was all terribly confusing…

The mech samurai's musings were suddenly interrupted when a strong foreign scent crossed his sensory range. He stiffened, sniffing. The scent definitely belonged to a farmer, but it was the mint-earthy tinge that gave away the owner: Takao. The plow worker was close, just outside Kikuchiyo's range of vision. The samurai took his weight off the tree and adjusted the decibel frequency on his audio receptors. He could hear footsteps and the sound of a body moving through the foliage off to the right of where he stood. The scent potency matched the loudness of the body, so it was definitely Takao he heard moving through the forest. By the weight of the footsteps it sounded like Takao was carrying something heavy, probably in one hand. Kikuchiyo listened intently as the footsteps, as well as the scent, rapidly started fading away; Takao was heading deeper into the forest. If he wasn't quick he would lose track of the farmer, and something in the mech's gut told him that wherever Takao went, Komachi would be there. Kikuchiyo waited until the young man's scent and footsteps were on the very edge of his sensory range, and then he started after him, taking as long strides as he could without making his usual clanging noise. His metal crutch lay abandoned at the base of a birch tree.

Kikuchiyo followed Takao deep into the forest, to a point where there wasn't a single human foot path to be seen. The trees grew so thick the sky disappeared altogether, leaving nothing but shadows and voids. Only the faintest aroma of lantern oil gave Kikuchiyo a clue as to how Takao could find his way in such powerful darkness. Kikuchiyo was careful not to step too heavily, although the thick forest grass greatly stifled his footsteps. He didn't want to chance Takao catching wind that he was being followed.

An hour passed before Kikuchiyo finally heard Takao's footsteps come to a halt. He slowed his approach, not wanting to catch up to Takao too quickly. He came to the entrance to a small glen where the trees were thin, and slid in behind a thick oak tree. Kikuchiyo peered around the trunk into the glen. The gap in the trees above allowed a little half-moonlight allowed at least some illumination to the scene unfolding before him.

Takao was standing outside a small, very old hut, carrying a wooden bucket filled to the brim with water in one hand and an oil lantern in the other. The hut's windows were all fastened shut, and only a single door lead in from the small stone porch below the front step. A few of the boards forming the walls seemed to be in danger of falling off, and the thatching in the roof was in need of replacement. Takao pulled the door aside and stepped into the hut, slipping his shoes off as he did. The glow from the lantern filled the hut for a brief moment before Takao slid the door shut, though the light was still visible through the door's canvas. Kikuchiyo cautiously stepped out into the glen and approached the house, taking each step with great measure. His knee joints ached and his torso felt weak from not having the support of the crutch, but the samurai ignored the pains and strained to hear when Takao started speaking from within the hut.

"Sorry that took so long; I wanted to stop and get some wild garlic for the soup." His voice sounded friendly, like he was talking to a guest, although Kikuchiyo could easily decipher the odd undertone beneath the simple statement. It sounded like Takao was holding back an outburst; unnerving. Kikuchiyo reached the hut and pressed the side of his head against the wall of the hut, listening. There was a strange, muffled squeaking coming from opposite of where Takao was, like sounds that were supposed to be words but didn't quite reach that expectation. However, the intent behind the words was plain: fear; pleading, worried fear. The person speaking, or rather failing to speak, was terrified. Kikuchiyo's heart started to pound, and his systems worked overtime. He sniffed the air tentatively, and his stomach twisted in terror. Komachi was in the hut, and something was preventing her from speaking; she was gagged.

Kikuchiyo had to fight a fresh wave of steam threatening to erupt from his vents. Komachi was in an abandoned hut with Takao, and she was gagged. Usually people who were gagged were also tied up. Takao had tied up Komachi. Rage built up from deep inside Kikuchiyo, threatening to overload his systems. His armor grew hot and his heart rate shot up like cannon fire. That sneaky little bastard! Kikuchiyo listened hard, wondering what Takao was planning to do with his captive. If he heard one single indication of violence…

Kikuchiyo unslung his sword and readied it at his hip. Any pain from his healing injuries was lost.

Komachi watched Takao ready the cooking pot over the small fire on the stone bench by the door. He slowly applied water to the pot and waited for it to boil. His face was totally blank, not a single clue as to what he might be thinking could be seen on his features. Komachi was trembling uncontrollably, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks. Her throat was sore from trying to yell, and her joints ached from being in the same position for the last couple of hours. She desperately wanted to sleep so she could find relief from the searing headache that flared every so often, but she was terrified of what Takao might do to her if she did.

Takao had taken the oil lantern with him when he left to fetch water, so she'd sat in total darkness for nearly an hour and a half after the sun went down. The lantern was the only light source in the old hut, besides the cooking fire Takao was currently attending to. She wondered if he really planned to feed her; the thought brought some hope that at least he wouldn't let her die too easily. She still hoped to somehow escape, but right now staying alive was her greatest priority. Komachi sniffed, shuddering; it was hard to breathe through just her nose since the cloth around her mouth constricted her face and the back of her neck. Movement appeared in the corner of her eye and she looked up to see that Takao had turned towards her, the same sickening smile plastered on his pale face.

"It'll be a little bit before the water starts to boil," he said matter-of-factly. Komachi looked at him warily; she didn't like the way his dark eyes were traveling up and down her shaking body. He leaned forward onto his hands and knees and crawled towards her, his lip curling. "Maybe we should use this time to…get reacquainted with each other." He came so close the two of them were almost nose to nose. Komachi stared into his eyes, his dark, manic eyes. There was fire in them, deadly fire. She shook her head, whimpering pleadingly. He grinned, then placed a hand on her waist and pulled her to him, so that his face was at her neck and her jaw was trapped on his shoulder. "It's okay, Komachi-chan," he breathed, clenching her hip almost enough to be painful. "I love you, remember? I wouldn't dream of hurting you." He kissed her neck over and over with his cold, cracked lips. Komachi closed her eyes, praying for an escape from this nightmare.

Kikuchiyo's insides burned white-hot when he heard Takao's hushed proposition. He listened harder, straining to gage some sort of clue on Komachi's condition. He heard the shuffle of bodies and then Takao's deadly whisper. Then, he heard a pained whimper; Komachi's pained whimper. That was all the encouragement Kikuchiyo needed to finally give in to his rage. Everything turned red.

Komachi quivered as Takao ran his cold fingers along her collarbone and down her tunic. He breathed in against her hair then suddenly pulled away. She felt a flutter of hope that maybe he'd had his fill, but then he placed a hand on her chest and shoved her down onto the futon. She squeaked when her head hit the floor, and her eyes widened at the look of haunting hunger on his pallid face. Takao took in a rattling breath and ran his hand across her breast. Komachi closed her eyes gain, trying to find darkness.

But, suddenly, there came an alarming revving noise from outside the hut, accompanied by a loud, blasting hiss. Takao whipped around, a question on his lips. Before he could ask it, an enormous enraged bellow rang out from the dark, and the whole front half of the hut was torn apart. A huge bronze serrated blade hacked at the wood and straw thatching of the hut until they rained in pieces away from the rest of the structure. Komachi looked up towards the gaping hole into the darkness of the forest beyond, craning her neck to see around Takao. The giant blade disappeared for a moment, and then the hole was suddenly filled with a solid wall of steaming, vengeful metal samurai. Komachi's eyes widened and she shouted against her mouth gag. Kikuchiyo stepped into the main room of the hut, his visor glowing and steam shooting out of his exhaust pipe. Takao stared in disbelief at the mech, his mouth hanging open. He was half-twisted around, one hand still planted on Komachi. The samurai raised his chainsaw sword and pointed it at Takao, so that the blade tip was only a foot away from the farmer's nose.

"Take your filthy hands off of her you dirty bastard!" Kikuchiyo thundered. Komachi's heart thudded and her insides fell out somewhere behind her. She'd never heard Kikuchiyo sound so utterly murderous; it was almost as terrifying as it was uplifting. But she was only a little bit frightened; the rest of her was so relieved she started to weep anew. Takao's gaze turned steely, and he slowly rose to his feet to turn and face the intruder.

"What the hell are you doing here, samurai?" he asked, his voice venomous. Kikuchiyo growled and slammed his sword into the floor at Takao's feet, splitting the wood completely. The impact nearly launched Komachi off the ground. She laboriously yanked herself up into a sitting position and craned around to catch Kikuchiyo's visor. He glanced at her for a brief moment before returning his attention to Takao.

"Why do you think I'm here?" he snapped, wrenching his sword out of the hole in the floor. Takao didn't move.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm here for Komachi, you creep!" He raised his blade again, revving the engine aggressively. "Step away from her, or the next thing I'll split is your skull!" Takao didn't move. Instead, he smirked.

"She doesn't want to leave," he sneered, "she was just telling me how much she liked it here. You wasted your time in coming to find her, mech." Komachi shook her head violently, finally deciding she'd had enough of being submissive. She reached up and tugged the cloth off of her mouth with a hard jerk.

"Kiku! Please, get me out of here!" Kikuchiyo's flaming gaze locked on her. Takao looked over his shoulder, his eyes wild. Komachi reached out towards the samurai, blinking through the tears. "I knew you'd come, Kiku! Please, help me!" Before Kikuchiyo could reply, Takao spun down and cracked his hand across Komachi's face, spurring a pained cry from her.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO SAY HIS NAME!" Takao screamed, seizing the young woman's shoulders and giving her a jarring shake.

Kikuchiyo roared and lunged at Takao, swinging his sword back out of the way. He reached over, grabbed the back of the youth's tunic and flung him bodily across the hut. Takao crashed against the opposite wall, knocking over the cooking pot and spilling boiling water everywhere, including on his right leg. While Takao screeched in pain and clutched at his burning leg, Kikuchiyo rushed to Komachi's side and tore the ropes binding her wrists and ankles. She untied the gag hanging from her collar and threw her arms around the mech's armored neck, sobbing in relief. Kikuchiyo held her close, one large hand stroking her hair and the other at her back, enveloping her in his bulk.

"Oh, Kiku, Kiku!" Komachi wept into his shoulder, trembling and close to hysteria.

"Shhh, it's okay sweetie," Kikuchiyo murmured, "I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Across the hut, Takao slowly pulled himself to his feet, hissing at the blazing pain that shot through his burned leg. He glowered at the samurai holding the water priestess, fury burning through him like wildfire. He reached down under the step from the torn front of the hut and pulled out something long and metal, while simultaneously reaching into his tunic pocket…

Through her tears of relief, Komachi saw Takao rise to his feet and suddenly stumble towards them, his left arm pulling back. She tensed and gasped in alarm.

"Kiku-!" Kikuchiyo heard the danger a half second before it activated. He shoved Komachi away from him just as the flat end of a huge ball-point hammer collided heavily with the side of the mechanical samurai's armored head. Komachi screamed as Kikuchiyo was violently thrown sideways a few feet, landing with a thud at the back of the hut. "No! Kiku!" She scrambled towards him but was wrenched backwards by Takao, his hand latched onto her wrist.

Kikuchiyo's processor ran overtime trying to reboot his systems, whirring and computing furiously to bring his function back online. His visor flickered on and off a couple of times, so his visual feed came back in short disjointed bursts. His brain throbbed from the force of the impact and his audios rang, making everything muffled and incoherent. The mech would have shut down for at least an hour to make the repairs easier to maintain, if not for his boiling rage and self-awareness forcing him to stay conscious. He could barely make out Komachi's stifled cries mixed in with Takao's menacing threats, but their tone alone was all he needed for motivation. With a creaking groan, the mech samurai rolled over and pushed himself to his hands and knees, steam blasting from his vents with the effort of moving. He hauled himself to one knee, then up into a standing position. He reached down and dragged his sword off the ground to his side, then turned to face Takao, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs and the heavy throb in his head, blinking his visor to clear the static from his visual feed. His heart quickened when his vision cleared for a moment, and he saw Takao clutching Komachi close to his front, his hand around her neck.

Komachi struggled against Takao's iron grip; he had his left arm wrapped around her shoulders with his hand at her throat. He squeezed when she fought and temporarily cut off her air. She stopped struggling, and he eased the pressure. She watched Kikuchiyo sluggishly heave himself to his feet, dragging his sword up with him, and turn to face them. A horrified sob escaped her throat when she saw the huge dent in the side of the mech's metal head. The dent sank dangerously deep into Kikuchiyo's helm, nearly caving in one side of his visor and completely crushing one audio receptor. Blood and oil slowly dribbled down the side of Kikuchiyo's head, pooling in a dark stain on his shoulder. Probably as a result of the injury, his right hand twitched and could not keep a proper grip on his sword. Fresh new tears spilled forth from Komachi's eyes.

"Oh, Kiku," she sobbed, but couldn't get out another word because Takao wickedly squeezed her throat for a second time. Kikuchiyo's visor flickered from black to flaming orange and back several times, and he let out a low, beastly growl.

"Let. Her. Go," he rumbled. His voice was surprisingly strong after taking such a gruesome hit. Takao _tched_ and clutched Komachi closer to his front, taking a step back. Kikuchiyo stepped forward, raising his sword. "Let her go, or you're dead."

The farmer and the mech stared at each other for a few agonizing moments. The tension grew so tangible Komachi could almost see the lighting passing between the two. Then, moving so fast neither Komachi nor Kikuchiyo caught it at first, Takao whipped out an iron pistol from beneath his tunic and pressed the barrel to Komachi's temple. Komachi felt the cold metal against her skin and thought her heart had stopped. A whimper passed her lips. Kikuchiyo's visor flared a bright, hot gold, and he took another step towards the two of them, swinging his sword high.

"Move another inch and she's dead!" Takao screeched. Kikuchiyo froze, his sword suspended up above his head. Komachi looked up into his visor, knowing he was looking back. Her heart still felt cold. The samurai switched his gaze to Takao, then to the gun in his hand. Takao's face was right in Komachi's blind spot, but judging by the shaking of the gun he held to her head, he must have looked pretty mad by now. Kikuchiyo let off a stack of steam.

"You wouldn't dare," he snarled. Takao pushed the gun barrel harder into Komachi's temple, making her gasp. She snapped her eyes shut for a moment, feeling dizzy from the pressure of the barrel on such a soft spot on her skull.

"Put down your sword, mecha," Takao ordered, his voice shuddering. Kikuchiyo hesitated, and Komachi opened her eyes again to catch his visor. The mech took in a shaking breath, and then dropped his sword behind him. The giant bronze blade stuck in the wooden floor at the mech's back. The second the sword's handle left Kikuchiyo's grasp, Takao whipped the gun around and fired. Komachi's heart started back up with a thump, and she screamed.

Kikuchiyo heard the shot before he felt the impact of the bullet, and he heard Komachi's scream beforehe heard the shot.

"NOOOOO!" Then a shearing, burning iron spike of pain drove through Kikuchiyo's side. The bullet sheared straight through his armor and passed straight through the other side, hitting the wall with as almost a loud a bang as the shot. Kikuchiyo doubled over, his breath catching in his throat. A warning flashed in his visual feed, and a quick schematic appeared showing where the bullet had hit rose to the front of his sight. He clutched at his left side and shuddered at the pain, falling to his knees. His head tilted down until all he could see was the floor, while Komachi's frantic shriek sounded from in front. "KIKU! NO!" Warmth spread around Kikuchiyo's hand where he cupped the wound, and he tasted copper and oil.

Komachi screamed again and reached out towards Kikuchiyo, abandoning all sense of self or safety. He was shot. Kikuchiyo was shot. No. Not again. She tried to run to him, but Takao yanked her back by the shoulder and tossed her to the floor behind him, temporarily knocking the wind out of her. Komachi coughed and looked up at Takao through misty eyes. The plow worker stepped towards the fallen mech, his gun trained at Kikuchiyo's helm.

"You idiot mecha," Takao spat, his voice a deadly undertone. "You really think I'd kill the woman I love? You're denser than the Nobuseri foot soldiers." Kikuchiyo coughed and groaned, curling over until his forehead touched the floor. Komachi sobbed, reaching a hand out to him. Takao leveled his gun at the samurai's head, his finger curling the trigger. He lifted his lip in a maniacal sneer. "Once you're gone, Komachi and I can finally be alone." Komachi stared up at the young man she had once counted as her friend, then to the gun in his hand. He was going to kill him. He was going to kill Kikuchiyo. Her friend, her protector; her love. Komachi curled her fingers into a fist without even realizing it. She was on her feet without even remembering moving her legs. Her vision turned red.

Kikuchiyo felt the hard round barrel of the pistol tap the back of his helm. The pain pushing through his body was one he thought he'd been rid of for years. The schematics in his visual feed told him that the bullet had passed cleanly through his oblique armor and muscle cables through the other side. No organs were damaged, and no vital oil reservoirs or blood vessels had been punctured. In reality, the wound was not life-threatening; one might even say it was glancing, if lucky. The pain was just so horrible, like he'd been stabbed with a railroad spike. His bruised ribs were protesting as well, as if the impact had jarred them. He was bleeding both oil and blood, and if he didn't stem the flow there was a danger of his systems shutting down. The bullet had torn several lengths of muscle cables and burned away a chunk of armor on both sides of his body. So, the wound was serious, just not fatal. The gun pointed at his head; now that was fatal. Kikuchiyo heard Takao's hissed ultimatum and felt the cold fingers of death stroke at his armored neck. Was he really going to die here, after escaping death by an inch so many years ago? Komachi…if he died she'd be defenseless against this maniac. He couldn't die here, not now. Not when Komachi needed him. He was a samurai; he was not going to die from a simple gunshot to the head. Kikuchiyo willed his systems to get back to work, trying to force the shock from his body. He had to move. He heard Takao's finger touch the trigger on the pistol, and his heart pounded. Maybe it was too late.

'Komachi,' he thought desperately, 'I—'

But, suddenly, the barrel of the gun was wrenched away. Kikuchiyo heard a strangled cry from Takao, followed by a forced curse and a grunt. He forced himself to straighten up, growling at the dragging pain from his torn muscle cables. He gaped at what he saw. Komachi had flung herself onto Takao, one arm around his neck and the other around his head. She cursed at him and pulled at his hair, kicking the backs of his thighs. Takao shouted and staggered backward, trying to throw her off. His pistol was still clutched in one hand, but he seemed to temporarily forget he had it. Instead he clawed at Komachi's arms and shook his upper body back and forth, trying to dislodge her.

"Komachi, no! Get away!" Kikuchiyo shouted, his heart flying in panic. He tried to get a foot under himself so he could push up into a stand, but his torn muscle cables couldn't execute the leverage. Takao roared like a mad ape and threw himself back, taking Komachi with him. Unfortunately, the two of them were too close to the opposite side of the hut for such a radical maneuver, and the back of Komachi's head smacked hard against the wall. There was a sickening crack, and the water priestess let out a surprised cry before crashing to the floor, freeing Takao. "KOMACHI!" Kikuchiyo stared, horrified, at her still form. Her eyes were closed, the tiniest trickle of blood stood stark against the skin of her forehead beneath her fringe.

Kikuchiyo felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath him, and the sky had disappeared. The world seemed to narrow, to where all he saw was Komachi's limp, lifeless form.

'No…_No_!' he screamed in his head. He ran a scan over her—luckily she was within range—stilling his breath for a brief, horrifying moment. The results of the scan were enough to bring tears to his visor. The readings showed she had a concussion, but her brain wasn't bruised or bleeding and her skull wasn't cracked. Her heartbeat was subdued because she was unconscious, but it was still there. There was still breath in her lungs, still a beat in her heart. She was alive. Kikuchiyo sighed, but then snapped his attention back to reality when he saw Takao turn around. The youth stared down at the unconscious Komachi, his eyes wide, his hands shaking.

"You…How could you…Why would you do this…?" he gasped. He looked back at Kikuchiyo, and his shock contorted to rage. "You did this for him!" He whipped back around and pointed his gun at Komachi. "You traitorous bitch! You'd rather have him? Fine! I'll just kill you both!"

Time slowed down. Kikuchiyo did not think, he did not hesitate, he did not speak; he acted. He twisted his torso around so far and fast he nearly ripped the oblique muscle cables in his uninjured side, grabbed the hilt of his sword, and swung the blade around as hard as he could, a thunderous roar tearing from his jaws. There was a scream, a splash of red, and then two heavy, wet thuds. Kikuchiyo gasped and stared forward, his sword slung back over his opposite shoulder. Takao was lying on the floor beside Komachi, his eyes blank and his mouth open, his face frozen halfway between shock and the same insane glare. The lower part of his body from the waist down lay in a crumpled heap behind him, legs tangled, pelvis shredded. Blood flowed like a waterfall out of the severed ends of the youth's body, forming a miniature lake of crimson. The blood lapped at Komachi's arms and chest, and she let out a small moan.

Kikuchiyo took in a few shaky breaths, then let out a long, loud blast of steam from every vent in his body. He stuck his sword into the floor and pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the pain his side. He carefully stepped over the two halves of Takao and knelt at Komachi's side, pressing a blood-soaked gloved finger to her neck. Her pulse was steady but faint; she was still alive. Sighing in relief, Kikuchiyo gingerly gathered Komachi's limp form into his arms and lifted her off the ground, inching slowly into a standing position so as not to jostle her. He adjusted her so that her head and neck were safely propped up against his shoulder, and cradled her close to his chest. He could feel her steady breathing, her quivering heartbeat, mixing in with his own shuddering systems.

Kikuchiyo would have stood there for at least a few more minutes, just reveling in Komachi's wonderful _aliveness_, had it not been for the strong scent of blood filling his olfactory sensors. The dank odor of Takao's lifeless fluid was too much for the sensitive mech to handle, and Kikuchiyo promptly turned to exit the near-destroyed hut. He made sure to bend down and carefully scoop his sword into one hand before carrying Komachi away, out into the forest under the cover of night.

Komachi stirred, feeling as though her body was coming back into existence piece by agonizing piece. Her head felt like it had split open across the back, and her neck ached horribly. She groaned and tried to sit up, but her muscles wouldn't obey. There was a grunt at her side and she felt something both soft and hard close around her. Komachi didn't try to move again—she didn't think she could—but she did force her eyes to open as far as they would go, which wasn't very far. It was dark, and it was cool. She could hear the chirp of frogs and the rasp of insects weaving through the air, and the fresh smell of water and leaves crossed her nostrils. She was moving, but not by her own power; someone was carrying her, someone big, with strong, gentle, metal arms. She laboriously raised her hand and settled it on her carrier's chest. She felt a warm, comforting heat, a hard armored surface beneath a loose tunic, and a powerful beating heart of metal and muscle. There was a soft rumble her shoulder and back, and a deep, soothing voice vibrated against her neck and cheek.

"It's alright Sapling, I've got you. Nothing's going to hurt you now. You're safe, I promise." Komachi sighed and closed her eyes, clutching at her savior's shirt and carefully nuzzling his shoulder with her cheek.

"Kiku…"


	7. Chapter 6: The Truth

I think this chapter's longer than the last one...oh well. Lots of fluffy fluffy fluff! There's a special message at the bottom; read it and give me an answer. Enjoy!

Oil and Water

Chapter 6: The Truth

Kikuchiyo lay beside Komachi on the floor next to her futon, watching her sleep. His visor roved from the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets to her peaceful face. She still slept with her hands up on either side of her head, just like she had as a child. Her snoring was a little less pronounced than when she was little, but it was still there. The bandages around her head were partially hidden under her fringe, but Kikuchiyo's visor lingered on them a couple of times anyway. He tugged a bloody glove off of his right hand and reached out to stroke her cheek with his thumb. Her skin was so warm, so soft to the metal of his digit, and it was nearly chalk white next to his blazing red. He traced her jaw and chin, and then gently caressed her eyebrow. She was so beautiful, so pure. He still felt weak with relief that she was still here, alive, in this world with him. He'd almost lost her, before he could tell her how he felt…

When they'd reached Kanna village Kikuchiyo brought Komachi straight to Kirara, shouting at the water priestess to wake up from outside her hut. At the sight of her semi-conscious injured sister Kirara had burst into tears and immediately set to work treating her. She went to the village leader's house and woke Sanae to help her with the cleaning and bandaging of the gash on Komachi's head, neither women saying a word as Kikuchiyo explained to them and Rikichi what had happened in the last several hours. Rikichi didn't want to believe that Takao would commit such heinous crimes, but the injuries both Komachi and Kikuchiyo had sustained were proof enough. He didn't ask Kikuchiyo to elaborate when the samurai admitted to killing the plow worker.

"If you say you had no choice, then I believe you," the leader said, steadfast in his trust of the samurai. It was only after Komachi had been pronounced out of danger and safely moved to her hut that Kikuchiyo allowed Kirara and Sanae to examine his own wounds. Of course, neither woman knew anything about mechanical medical treatment, so Rikichi had to run out to Heihachi's hut to fetch the former engineer samurai. Heihachi examined Kikuchiyo's wounds—having been shocked out of his drowsiness by his friend's abysmal condition—and conducted the necessary repairs on the spot. The mech samurai lent a hand with his own treatment through the use of a special instant-weld solution given to him by Mifune. The solution sealed up the gunshot wound in his side once Heihachi had mended the torn muscle cables, as well as filled in the hole left by his damaged left audio receptor—Heihachi had to remove the broken component for more finite repairs to finish later. The solution was removable, so Kikuchiyo would only be deaf on his right side for thirty-six hours. With his new scars and renewed energy, Kikuchiyo assigned himself to watching over Komachi while she slept. No one argued.

Kikuchiyo started to finally doze a few hours before sunrise, but was jerked awake by the sound of Komachi stirring beneath her blankets. He rolled over to face her again, alert in case she showed any sign of pain or discomfort. The young water priestess stretched, winced at the pain in her head, and then fluttered her eyes open. She rolled her head from side to side for a moment, seeming confused, and groaned. Kikuchiyo took her left hand in both of his and gently stroked it.

"Shhh, it's okay, Sapling. Take it slow," he said softly. Komachi blinked a couple of times then tilted her head to face him. She smiled in recognition and reached up with her other hand towards him.

"Kiku," she rasped, then coughed for a moment at the dryness in her throat. Kikuchiyo sat up and reached over to a small table beside her bed to pick up a cup of water.

"Here you go kiddo." He leaned down and held the cup to her lips. Komachi opened her mouth and allowed him to pour a little bit in. She swallowed, a little painfully, then nodded at him.

"More," she whispered. He nodded back and tipped more water into her mouth. He gave her only half of what was in the cup, not wanting to make her sick, before placing it back on the table. He turned back to her and resumed his caressing of her hand. She smiled adoringly up at him and raised her free hand again. "Come closer," she murmured. The mech obeyed, scooting back down onto his side to lie next to her. Komachi laid her hand on his metal cheek, careful not to touch the silver weld where his audio used to be. "I knew you'd come find me; I just knew it. You were so brave, Kiku." Kikuchiyo put his left hand over the one she rested on his cheek, sighing.

"I told you I'd never leave you, didn't I?" he said softly. She nodded, beaming. He released the other hand he still clasped so he could stroke her cheek again. "I'm so sorry, Sapling. It's all my fault you got hurt; if I hadn't been such a big weakling and not freaked out about that bullet wound…" Komachi shook her head, wincing at the pain it caused.

"You saved me Kiku," she replied. "I almost got you killed. I owe you everything." She rolled over onto her side, so that the two of them were face to face. Kikuchiyo's armor grew hot at how close she was, her breath puffing against the front of his metal face.

"Komachi, I—" Komachi removed her hand from his cheek and placed a finger over his metal jaws. He wasn't moving them to talk, but the gesture was understood. She scooted closer, her hand sliding back up to his cheek and then behind to his neck beneath his hair. He shuddered under her touch, pressure building in his valves. She leaned in towards him.

"Kikuchiyo…"

But at that moment, when Komachi was inches from Kikuchiyo, there came a jarringly loud shout from outside the hut.

"WHERE IS HE?!" Komachi paused, confused. Kikuchiyo gently untangled her hand from around his neck and sat up, turning his good audio towards the door of the hut. There was another shout almost immediately following the first one. "WHERE IS HE!? I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL KILL THAT DAMN SAMURAI!" Kikuchiyo glanced down at Komachi, who stared up at him in horror. Kikuchiyo blew a small puff of steam, then gave her hand a quick squeeze before standing up and heading towards the door. Komachi reached out to him.

"Kiku, wait!" she cried hoarsely. She couldn't bear him being away from her for even one moment. He looked back at her over his shoulder, his visor glowing.

"Don't worry, kiddo," he said heartily, giving her the thumbs up, "I'll be right back. I'm sure it's nothing. Just relax, okay?" Komachi started to reply, but the mech slid open the door to her hut and disappeared into the daylight.

Kikuchiyo stepped out into early morning Kanna to be greeted by a mob of enraged farmers. At least a quarter of the village was gathered outside of Komachi's hut, most of them of unfamiliar face. None of the men in front of him had fought in the war against the capital; they must have moved to the village after he left. The men were shouting and their fists at him, advancing menacingly from all directions. Some of them were carrying clubs and sickles, some even held bows and arrows. Kikuchiyo was struck dumb by the sight. He looked around over the heads of the aggravated mob in hopes of finding an ally, maybe Rikichi or Kirara, but was distracted by a sudden whack on his helm by the butt of a pitchfork.

"Ow! Hey!" The samurai exhaled a burst of steam and glanced furiously in the direction of the assault. A burly man nearly the height of Kikuchiyo's shoulder was glaring up at him, his pitchfork clutched threateningly in front of him. The man was pale and dark-haired, and Kikuchiyo say a horrifying resemblance within him with someone else he knew.

"You mech samurai bastard!" the farmer shouted, jabbing the sharp end of his pitchfork in Kikuchiyo's face. "What the hell were you doing in Lady Komachi's hut?" Kikuchiyo gave the man a glowing robot glare.

"What's it to you?" he snapped, clenching his fists and slapping the pitchfork away. The men grit his teeth in a snarl and took another aggressive step forward.

"You're dead, samurai," the man hissed. "We won't stand for such a heinous act to go unpunished in our village!" Kikuchiyo's stomach twisted into a knot, his anger rising and his armor steaming. He had a strong suspicion he knew exactly what crime the man was referring to, but he didn't want to admit he knew.

"What are you babbling about man?" Kikuchiyo growled, squaring his shoulders and meeting the farmer's fierce gaze. The answer came from somewhere at the back of the crowd, from a voice much younger than the leader's.

"We found the hut in the woods!" the young man shouted, his voice shrill. "We saw what you did to Takao you murderer!"

Kikuchiyo felt his insides fall out. His lower jaw dropped open. He suddenly became aware of the scent of congealed blood in the air, and turned his head in the direction from which it came. At the village entrance there stood a single cart, one that was often used to carry rice bales. A dark tarp lay covering the bed of the cart, under which he could see two small lumps. A dark stain was smeared on the middle of the tarp.

"I…Ah…Um…" Kikuchiyo didn't know what to say. It was clear the farmers had easily figured out that it was his blade that had rent the young plow worker in two—his was the only blade in the village that could do such a think except for Heihachi's. He found himself wondering why he hadn't thought of the impact his actions would have on the boy's friends and family.

'Because he was going to kill Komachi,' Kikuchiyo thought fiercely. He glared at the farmers and blew a huge cloud of steam from his exhaust pipe. The sudden action temporarily startled the mobbing farmers.

"Yeah, I killed him," he snapped, glaring around at the lot of them, "and for good reason. He kidnaped your water priestess, and he was going to kill her! I didn't have a choice."

"Liar!" A young man Kikuchiyo recognized as Takao's brother Panko pushed his way through the crowd. "Takao would never hurt Lady Komachi. She broke his heart; he was going to try and change her mind, but he wouldn't lay a finger on her!" Kikuchiyo's anger flared brightly, his pipes steaming. They were so ready to believe an outsider would murder without reason, and yet it was one of their own who had threatened the life of their water priestess. Such blind prejudice; the reality of it made him sick.

"I killed him to protect Komachi!" Kikuchiyo roared, stamping his foot and blasting steam with the force of a freight train. He reached up behind his back and grabbed his sword. The farmers gasped and leapt back as the samurai swung the giant blade around to create a semicircle of space between him and their mob. "I've never taken the life of a farmer before, as deceptive as I've known farmers to be in the past. I've never taken the life of anyone who didn't deserve it. Takao was a sick creep who deserved what he got, and I gave it to him. Whether or not you agree is no skin off my back." A small part of him flinched at how much the saying didn't apply to him, but the rest didn't care. The mob bellowed in outrage, raging their weapons and speaking against Kikuchiyo's words.

"Liar!"

"Traitor!"

"Monster!"

"You're just like the Nobuseri!" The man at the front of the crowd pointed an accusatory finger at Kikuchiyo.

"First you kill my son, and then you have the gall to say he deserved it?! You shouldn't be allowed to even look at our village, let alone be near our water priestess's hut!" The mob shouted their agreement, raising their fists and weapons into the air. Kikuchiyo tensed, gripping his sword in both hands before him. He didn't want to shed any more peasant blood, but if they were threatening to remove him from Kanna, he would not go without a fight. Nothing, and no one, could ever make him leave Komachi again.

"What is going on here?" Everyone turned towards the deep end of the village at the angry shout. Kikuchiyo looked around to see Rikichi hurrying down the path from the village center to where the small crowd had gathered. Sanae were flanking him, and Heihachi was quickly wheeling himself along not far behind them, his mouth set in a grim line. When Rikichi reached them he placed himself in the gap between the mob and the samurai, his arms flung out on either side to shield Kikuchiyo. It was a futile effort, of course, but it was the gesture that mattered. Sanae and Kirara placed themselves on either side of the samurai, and Heihachi parked himself at the corner of Komachi's hut, drawing his sword from the scabbard on his chair.

"What is the meaning of this?" Rikichi demanded, glaring at the mob from one individual to another. Takao's father stepped up to address his leader.

"This samurai has murdered one of our own people!" he spat, glaring at Kikuchiyo. "We found Takao's body in an old hut in the forest early this morning. The hut was destroyed and Takao was cut in half; his body is in that cart by the village entrance. The wounds were made with a serrated blade the size of his sword!" He pointed at the mech, his finger shaking. "He murdered my son, and now he's saying he deserved it! He can't be allowed to stay here!" The mob thundered its approval. Rikichi looked back at Kikuchiyo, his face haunted.

"…You didn't tell me you cut him in half, Kikuchiyo," the village leader said shakily. Kikuchiyo heard no anger in Rikichi's voice, but he could tell his friend was distraught at the news. There came a cry of outrage at this simple statement.

"You knew?!" Takao's father looked as if he would pop a blood vessel in his eyes. "You knew that this…machine killed my eldest son and you didn't bother to tell me?" He stamped a foot and stepped until he was nose-to-nose with the village leader. "How could you do such a thing, Rikichi-sama? How could let such a sin go unpunished?"

"Kikuchiyo did what he had to do to protect Komachi!" Kikuchiyo was surprised when he heard Kirara speak, as was Takao's father and the rest of the mob. The elder water priestess stepped forward to stand beside Rikichi, one hand placed protectively over her pregnancy. Sanae followed her and took her place on Rikichi's other side, her face grim. Takao's father stood back, wary of the women. Kikuchiyo lowered his sword a touch.

"Kikuchiyo arrived here late last night with Komachi," Kirara explained steadily. "She was unconscious from a head injury—a concussion—while he suffered a wound to the head and a gunshot to the side. He told us how Takao kidnapped Komachi and kept her tied up in the hut you found. He tracked Takao there and attempted to rescue Komachi. Takao fought him and threatened to kill both of them. Kikuchiyo killed Takao to save Komachi." She glared at the leader of the mob. "Kikuchiyo did what he had to in order to save my sister, your water priestess. You should be ashamed for accusing him of murder in cold blood." Takao's father snorted and tossed his head dismissively.

"You're too trusting of this mech, madam water priestess. Just because he helped out during the war—"

"Kiku saved our village, you idiot plow-hog!" Kikuchiyo whipped around, nearly dropping his sword in shock. His shock was shared by nearly everyone around him, including the aggravating farmers. Komachi stood on the deck to her hut, leaning heavily against the doorframe and trembling with rage. The bandages around her head stood out against her brown hair, and she seemed clammier than when Kikuchiyo had left her a moment ago. The mech samurai nearly dropped his sword in his haste to offer her his supporting arm. She stumbled against him for a moment but quickly pushed him away, leveling a glare at the leader of the mob. She carefully stepped off the deck of her hut and approached the father of her deceased former friend. The men in the mob averted their eyes from her, including Takao's father. Komachi had been carefully stripped of her village attire and dressed in a simple white shift for comfortable sleeping. The skirt only reached her knees and the top clung to her womanly figure; it was quite embarrassing for the farmers to have to be in their water priestess's presence in such indecent clothing. As dire as the situation was, Kikuchiyo caught himself staring at her shapely body from behind. Komachi glared at Takao's father, her hands clenched into fists at her side. Her dowsing crystal glowed angry red.

"Kiku saved our village from certain destruction all those years ago, and he nearly died doing it. If it hadn't been for him there wouldn't be a Kanna here for you all to settle in. You don't understand; you can't possibly understand because none of you fought in that war. I was there. I remember everything. And I remember what happened last night." She looked over her shoulder towards Kikuchiyo, catching his visor. The look she gave him made him feel as though his very armor was melting.

"Takao kidnapped me and tied me up in that hut. He was going to…Do things to me." She shuddered, and Kikuchiyo's guts twisted with rage at the memory of Takao's whispered threats. "When Kiku came to rescue me, Takao hit him with a hammer and then pointed a gun at my head. Kiku put his sword down so Takao wouldn't shoot me, but instead Takao shot him. I tried to stop Takao from shooting him. That was when I was knocked out. I don't remember what happened next, but Kiku told me Takao was going to kill me next. He killed Takao to save me. He's a samurai; that's what he does." She stepped back and placed her hand in Kikuchiyo's ungloved one. Heat traveled up his arm to his neck where her fingers touched his palm, and he forced down another steam burst. His heartbeat grew so loud it nearly extinguished the hearing in his good audio. "If you want someone to blame, blame me. I tried to protect Kiku when Takao shot him, and because of that Takao tried to kill me. Kiku only killed Takao because my life was in danger."

There was silence for a few moments after Komachi's declaration. The farmers seemed to truly consider the water priestess's words. Indeed, a few of them looked concerned when Komachi's eyes suddenly filled with tears. Kikuchiyo felt his stomach burn at her distress; was she really that upset about Takao's death?

But then, Panko made a disgusted noise and suddenly spat at the ground. That alone nearly sent Kikuchiyo over the deep end. He took up his sword and raised it to a ready position. His hand still clasped Komachi's.

"I don't believe a word of it," Takao's brother snapped, glowering at Komachi. "Takao loved you, lady water priestess. He wanted to make you his wife; he would have never hurt you. You broke his heart and he was upset, that's all." Kikuchiyo's visor glowed with rage.

"You stupid-!" he shouted, but Komachi beat him to the insult.

"Are you saying I imagined his actions, Panko?" she snarled, her face dirty. Panko met her gaze with equal dislike.

"I'm saying that you're probably lying to protect your precious mech friend," he spat. "You've got some sick fascination with him, and you didn't want Takao interfering with that. I bet you told the samurai to kill my brother, so he wouldn't bother you again. You're a twisted, sick bitch, Komachi."

Kikuchiyo's vents exploded with steam. His fury at the young man's words was so great he temporarily lost control of his senses. With a wrathful bellow, the samurai swung his sword high and brought it down with earth-shattering force towards Panko. Komachi and Kirara screamed at him to stop, as did Rikichi and Sanae, but the motion was past its potential energy and was already being activated. The serrated blade fell down towards Panko, fully intended to splitting him in twain. At the moment, all Kikuchiyo could see was red.

There was a whistling sound, and Kikuchiyo's sword was suddenly flung completely sideways away from Panko. It flew through the air and stuck in one of the posts of the village gateway. Everyone stared after it. Panko stood frozen on the spot, his mouth and eyes agape, his face pale and his body rigid. Kikuchiyo stood partially prostrate, his arm still raised. Through the blade of his sword, another samurai sword stuck buried to the hilt, a little ghost charm dangling from the end. Kikuchiyo whipped his head around to the other direction. Heihachi sat in his wheelchair, his arm flung out in front of him as though he had just finished releasing a ball. His relaxed smile was gone, and his eyes were open all the way.

"Easy there, Kikuchiyo-dono," he said, his casual manner completely dropped. "You're trying to appeal your case, not create more enemies." Kikuchiyo stared at his comrade, his bottom jaw slowly falling open. He'd…He'd almost…And Heihachi had…. Panic set in, and basic primal coding started to override the mech's emotional psyche. He had to leave. He had to leave now.

Kikuchiyo bolted, heading out of the village as fast as his metal feet could carry him, a trail of steam lagging in the air behind him.

"Kiku! Wait!" Komachi took off for the village entrance, determined to catch up to the mech before his thundering footsteps got too far away to hear. Someone caught her wrist and held her back. Komachi whipped around, a snarl placed on her lips for whomever dared impede her. Her glare faded when she saw her sister's saddened face. Komachi paused, still angled towards the gates.

"Onee-chan," she protested weakly, but Kirara placed a finger to her lips.

"Do not forget what I told you," she said softly, so that none of the onlookers would hear. Komachi's eyes widened. "Do not deny your heart, Komachi. Don't let shame keep you from being honest with yourself." Komachi balked, her mouth open in surprise. These words were the last she expected to come from her sister's throat. Kirara nodded and squeezed her arm. "Go, darling. Don't let him leave." Komachi's stomach clenched and a gasp rose to her throat. She nodded, and when Kirara released her she pelted out of the village gates towards the forest, her heart flying as wildly as her feet.

As their water priestess disappeared, the mob seemed to come back to life. They shouted in angry protest and advanced towards the village gates. Rikichi, Sanae and Heihachi quickly placed themselves between the aggressive group and the path their target had taken.

"Why do you defend that machine?" Takao's father shouted, waving his pitchfork in the direction Kikuchiyo had disappeared. "You're our leader; you're supposed to be on our side!" The crowd thundered its approval. Rikichi's cheeks flushed red and he clenched his teeth together in frustration. This could not go on.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" The angry famers recoiled as though struck. Even Takao's father seemed somewhat browbeaten by his leader's outburst. Rikichi breathed heavily through his teeth, the ugliest glower ever seen on his face displayed to the people he led. "You should all be ashamed of yourselves," Rikichi spat. "Komachi is our water priestess. She is kind and dedicated to her duties, and has shown herself to be wiser than most of us put together. She would never lie about something so important as her life being in danger." He levied his glare at Takao's father. "Did you see her head? She has a concussion because your son smashed her head against the wall of that hut when she tried to protect Kikuchiyo. And Kikuchiyo protected her from being shot by your son! Takao was sick in the mind, and we should have all seen it; we should have known his reaction to Komachi's rejection was too outrageous not to be concerned. Kikuchiyo did what he had to do to save an innocent from death. I doubt any of you could say you would do the same." The men in the crowd fidgeted uncomfortably, as though they were children being scolded for breaking the rules. Panko reluctantly raised his voice.

"Why should we believe the samurai? He's an outsider." Rikichi growled like an angry bear, and Panko flinched.

"What reason has he to lie?!" Rikichi roared. "Kikuchiyo has always been a friend to our people, even though most of you here did not know him during the war. The injuries Takao inflicted on him were no fibbed scratches to try and help his case. When he returned to the village last night he was bleeding more furiously than Komachi! A gunshot to the side and a hammer blow to the head is not something one can easily fabricate." He lifted his head and stared at all of them with disgust.

"It is sad that Takao was distraught enough to lose control of his senses, and it's sad that he lost his life because of it. But what isn't sad is that he died because he was threatening the life of one of our own, or that it was one of our village's heroes that killed him." He stomped over to Takao's father and wrenched the pitchfork out of the man's hand. Takao's father didn't even protest. Rikichi gazed around at the lot of them again.

"No more of this foolish temper tantrum from you people. We shall bury Takao in the village graveyard and honor his memory for what he was…before what he became. But I swear, by everything I stand for, if any of you show Kikuchiyo the slightest bit of aggression or animosity, I will drag you to the edge of our territory and throw you out of our lands myself! Am I understood?" The villagers reluctantly bowed their heads. No one dared speak another word.

Kirara watched her sister chase after the mech samurai, her heart heavy and her eyes watering. She didn't pay attention to the commotion taking place behind her, to what Rikichi and Sanae were barking to the mob. She didn't feel like engaging in human contact at the moment, and headed around the mob towards the outer edge of the village. She hoped to visit the rice fields for some piece. Before she reached the final row of huts, however, Kirara felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Feeling numb, she turned towards the source of the touch. Tetsuo stood at her left, his eyes full of concern. A partial feeling flowed back into Kirara, one she'd become accustomed to for many years now: regret.

"Are you alright?" Tetsuo asked her, taking her hand in his. She nodded and gave him a small smile, though she knew it was just a fold in the numb ball of clay that was her face. Tetsuo's concern accented into a furrowed brow. He held his arm out to her.

"Walk with me?" he asked. Kirara thought about refusing him, wanting very much to be alone at the moment. But some nagging part of her told her that being alone right now wasn't wise, and that she'd rather be in the company of her reluctant husband than no one at all. Kirara nodded and placed her hand in his arm, allowing Tetsuo to lead her to the edge of the village.

When Tetsuo and Kirara reached the line between churned village earth and wild grass, Tetsuo turned Kirara around to face him. When she didn't meet his eyes right away, he gently placed a thumb beneath her chin and lifted her face up to his. She met his gaze, feeling oddly surprised at the tender gesture.

"I heard what you said to Komachi," Tetsuo said quietly, his eyes full of something Kirara couldn't quite discern. Kirara blushed and looked away, her stomach twisting into knots. "Look, Kirara, I want you to know something. I know that…you've never really…reciprocated my feelings." Kirara's eyes shot towards him, suddenly wide in alarm. Her heart pounded loudly, her blood feeling suddenly acidic. Tetsuo continued. "I've always known there was something holding you back, something that blocked you from truly loving me." Kirara's throat clenched, and she tried to speak.

"I…But…" Tetsuo mimicked her earlier action and placed a finger to her lips.

"It's alright," he said calmly. "To tell you the truth, I don't really care." Kirara's near panic flipped over, suddenly replaced by confusion.

"What?" she asked. Tetsuo chuckled.

"I know you don't love me, and I'm okay with that. I've talked to a lot of people that knew you before I came to settle here, and they told me you had been in love with someone before. But, you never go together with him, and yet you've managed to keep that part of yourself alive. I've…kind of always admired that about you." Kirara felt her eyes pool. Tetsuo…he'd never been this honest with her before, though she knew he'd never lied to her. She guessed she'd never really paid attention to any confessions or feelings he might have shared before.

"I've been told you were once in love with a samurai, but for some reason you couldn't be together. You've always loved him though, even when you agreed to marry me. Am I wrong?" Kirara cast her eyes to the ground, a flush blooming in her face. She wanted to lie to him, to tell him it wasn't true…but she couldn't, not when he was being so honest with her. She looked back up at her husband, her jaw tight.

"It's true," she said quietly. "I did love a samurai, though I didn't realize how much until it was too late. I tried to tell him, but I never really got the chance. I hurt him too much, and I was ashamed at how blind I was." Tetsuo nodded, a sad smile crossing his soft mouth.

"I understand," he said calmly. Kirara placed a hand on his shoulder, wishing she could will the tears away.

"I'm so sorry, Tetsuo-sa," she said, her bottom lip trembling. "It wasn't fair of me to agree to marry you in the first place. I just…I was ashamed, and I didn't want to be alone." Tetsuo still smiled, and he took her hand into his and brought it up to kiss it.

"It's alright, Kirara," he said kindly. "I get it. Really I do. I just want you to know that no matter what, I love you anyway. You're everything I could want in a woman and more, and you're the mother of my children. I promise I'll always be here for you, whether as your husband or just as a friend. I can be whatever you need me to be." Kirara let out a sob and collapsed into Tetsuo's arms, her shoulders trembling. Tetsuo held her tightly to him, his chin resting on her head. Kirara couldn't remember ever embracing her husband like this; it was oddly comforting.

"Thank-you, Tetsuo-sa," she said against his chest, her tears soaking his tunic. "Thank you for this life I don't deserve, and thank you for two beautiful children." She felt Tetsuo's chuckle against her cheek.

"We don't know what the other one looks like yet, my dear," he said amusedly. Kirara couldn't help but laugh. Tetsuo stroked her hair lovingly, and Kirara sighed at the touch.

"Tell me one thing," her husband asked. Kirara nodded; at the moment she was willing to tell him anything.

"What was his name? The name of the samurai you love?" Kirara sighed again. She felt the baby inside her kick.

"His name is Katsushiro."

Komachi ran until her lungs felt as though they had burnt to ash. She slowed on her way up the forest bath, putting a hand to her throbbing head. She wished the world would stop swimming for a moment so she could move forward without feeling nauseous.

"Kiku, where are you!?" she screamed, not caring that her voice betrayed her desperation. She was desperate; Kikuchiyo might have decided to leave. No…not might have. She'd seen the look on his face when Heihachi prevented him from attacking Panko.

'He didn't mean to do it,' she thought desperately, trying to see through the tears in her eyes. 'He lost his temper of a moment. Panko had to go and open his big mouth and say something so cruel.' The insult Takao's brother had voiced wasn't what hurt Komachi; what had hurt her was how angry it made Kikuchiyo. He had been willing to cut down another villager to defend her honor; if that wasn't true devotion than what was?

"KIKUUUUU! WHERE ARE YOOOOUUU!?" she screamed again, so loud her voice nearly broke. Komachi paused at the top of the hill to listen, hoping she might hear a reply. She didn't expect to hear a ferocious roaring, or the crashing and raging of a hut being destroyed. Komachi turned in the direction of the sound; it was coming from off the path, in the forest itself. She leaped off the path and pelted towards the sound without a moment's hesitation.

Komachi followed the frightening, enraged sounds of destruction until she reached a glen where the white birch trees thinned. The early morning sunrise partially bathed the glen in orange liquid light, illuminating the destruction within. Komachi put a hand to her mouth. Kikuchiyo was standing in the middle of the glen, raining devastating strikes to the walls and windows of an old hut planted in the springy grass. Komachi realized with a sickening jolt the hut was the same one Takao had imprisoned her in; the sight of his psychotic break and final stand. Kikuchiyo brought his right fist around to smash a giant hole in the wall of the hut, then seized the sides of the hole and tore several boards away from the hut's sidings. He was bellowing with rage, steam erupting out of his vents at regular intervals like the exhalations of an angry volcano. Komachi would have feared for Kikuchiyo's safety had he not been the mechanical warrior he was. Tearing the hut apart was nothing compared to diverting the crashing progress of a downed warship. Komachi peered closely and saw oily tears streaming down the sides of Kikuchiyo's metal face, his visor ablaze with orange fire. He was hurting, and seeing him so practically broke her heart in half. She wanted to approach him, to comfort him, but self-preservation dictated that she stay clear of the mech's destructive rage. And yet, she was instantly beset by regret for even considering that Kikuchiyo would harm her, even if he was intoxicated with wrath. This was Kikuchiyo, her Kikuchiyo; he could no sooner harm her than Kirara's ten-year-old daughter could lift a sword. Komachi crushed her own fears; Kiku wouldn't hurt her, she just had to make sure he saw her when she approached.

Cautiously, putting one foot before the other with the utmost care, Komachi stepped out into the clear of the glen. She moved around to one side to ensure she would fall in Kikuchiyo's line of sight. The volume of the mech samurai's destruction of the hut was deafening, the splintering wood, the ripping fabric, the anguished roars of Kikuchiyo's voice and the cashing clangs from his mechanical joints. But Komachi did not shy away. She would not let something as common as noise to halt her progression now. The water priestess waited until Kikuchiyo halted for a moment to catch his breath, yanking his fist out of another hole in the wall and moaning a dejected sob. The sound hurt Komachi's heart and ears even more than his angry sounds had. When the mech pulled away from the hut to wipe the oil from his eyes, Komachi made herself known.

"Kiku," she called softly, waving one arm in his direction. Kikuchiyo's metal head jerked up, his welded scar flashing in the sunlight. His sobs halted for a moment at the sight of his friend, and he quickly stood straight, vigorously rubbing his sleeve across his visor to clear away the rest of the oil tears.

"Don't come any closer," he said hoarsely, hiding his face behind his arm. Komachi took a step forward, one hand reaching out to him. Her dowsing crystal extended like a second arm, glowing purple.

"Kiku," she called again, her tone sympathetic. Kikuchiyo turned away from her and waved his hand vigorously for her to move back.

"I said don't come closer," he said, a little firmer this time. "I don't want you to see me like this, Sapling." Komachi hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether or not she should obey. But then she saw Kikuchiyo's massive shoulders jerk and heard another sob drop from his throat. Komachi abandoned all caution and ran towards him, flinging her arms around his middle and burying her face in his shirt. Kikuchiyo grunted at the force with which she hit him, and she regretted running at him like that. The gunshot wound in his side probably still hurt, as did his yet-to-heal-ribs. She loosened her grip slightly but didn't remove her arms. Instead, she scooted around so that she was clenched to his front and lifted her head back to see his face.

Kikuchiyo's visor still glowed with orange fire, but the fire seemed to have dulled somewhat in the short time since she crossed the glen. The oily tears had not ceased to fall; they flowed down his metal face and dripped off his angular lower jaw, there she suspected they pooled behind his wide neck guard. His breathing was ragged, and she could hear the fierce pounding of his metal-muscle-heart. She'd never seen her friend so distressed before, not even sixteen years ago when he had cried his confession that he'd been born a farmer. Even though his facial plates barely moved, she could tell he was frowning in sorrow. She could read his face as though it was flesh and blood.

Komachi raised her left hand and flicked the tears away from Kikuchiyo's cheeks. He was so tall she had to stand on the tips of her toes to reach his face, and even then she could only touch the tips of her fingers to his oil-soaked cheek. She didn't care though; the gesture was what was important. Kikuchiyo gazed into her eyes, his sorrow glowing from his visor as though he had real eyes. Komachi gave him a sad smile and settled her hand under his neck guard, her palm warming with the heat from his metal body. The mech sighed and tentatively placed right hand over the one she held to his chest. It was still ungloved, the red ridged metal warm against her pale skin.

"Thanks, kiddo," Kikuchiyo said huskily, blinking the flaps on his visor. Komachi nuzzled him with her nose, breathing in his iron scent.

"It wasn't your fault, Kiku," she said quietly. She turned her hand around and clasped his. He seemed to flinch for a moment, but then curled his fingers around hers, accepting her reassurance.

"Yes, it was," he replied, his voice tight with anger and sorrow. "I just…lost it. I almost killed another farmer, Sapling. That's not what a real samurai would do."

"I know you wouldn't have done it," Komachi said firmly, looking up to catch his visor again. "You wouldn't have. You don't kill people who have done no wrong."

"He insulted your honor, Komachi," Kikuchiyo growled, tightening his grip on her hand. "He called you…ugh; I can't even say it again. I don't know if I would have been able to stop my sword in time. I was so angry." Komachi shook her head.

"I don't believe that," she said. "You are a samurai, not a bandit. You don't simply cut people down because they speak against you, at least not anymore." She gave him a smile. "You've grown out of that, I know." Kikuchiyo snorted, and pulled her hand back down so that it hung at her side, his still clasping it.

"I haven't grown out of killing though," he murmured, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground behind her. "I killed a farmer, Komachi. I killed one of their own, their friend, their brother, their son. And you know what? I don't regret it, at all. Maybe I really am a monster." Komachi gasped and gave him a slap with her free hand. He didn't react; it probably wasn't hard enough to hurt him.

"You are not a monster, do you hear me?!" she said, her voice rising a couple of octaves. "You killed Takao, yes, but you did it to save me. He would have killed us both if you hadn't. You did what needed to be done."

"But at what cost?!" Kikuchiyo's visor sudden blazed again, and another cloud of steam blasted from his exhaust pipe. He glared down at Komachi, but she didn't flinch or look away; his anger was not directed at her. "Look, I don't give one rip about what those villagers think of me. They can bellyache all they want, deny the truth, whatever. I don't care. What I do care about is the fact that they think you wanted this to happen!" He put a hand to his visor and groaned.

"It's because of me they think you've turned on your own people! I've completely ruined your standing in your village, disgraced you; I've taken your honor as a water priestess away!" He looked down at her again. "What if I've ruined your life here, Sapling? What if by saving you I just fed you to the wolves?" Komachi shook her head hard, ignoring the flaring pain from her concussion.

"You've done no such thing, Kiku," she said firmly. "You haven't done anything to destroy my honor. Panko was just being an idiot. The rest of them probably thinking I'm just being a silly girl. In time they'll see that we're telling the truth. You just have to give them space." Kikuchiyo shook his head, another groan escaping his voice box.

"That's not enough, kiddo," he said solemnly, dropping his head. "You don't get it. The defeat of the capital didn't change anyone's opinion of the bandits. I'm the very embodiment of all the torment they suffered over the years. They'll never be able to get over what I've done; I represent everything they hate." He sighed deeply. "When it comes down to it, any metal body that can wield a sword is just another bandit or capital dog. Even if I saved their village a hundred times over it wouldn't matter. I might as well be a Nobuseri." Komachi opened her mouth to protest, but Kikuchiyo plowed on before she could speak.

"I can't stay here, Sapling. I have the blood of a farmer on my hands; anything good I've done in the past doesn't matter. I'm a killer, so I should accept a killer's fate."

Komachi shook her head, her brow creasing in sorrow. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Kikuchiyo…leave again? It was madness. He belonged here, in Kanna. This was his home. He had friends here, a family….He had her. Komachi seized the front of the samurai's shirt with both hands and stood up on her tip toes, glaring so fiercely at Kikuchiyo he couldn't' help but meet her gaze.

"Now, you listen to me, Kikuchiyo," she said fiercely, hoping the anger on her face shielded the fear in her voice. "You are not leaving Kanna. You cannot leave this village. This is your home; this is where you belong. You cannot be anywhere but here…I won't let you." Kikuchiyo sighed again and put his hands on her shoulders.

"I don't want to drag you down with me," he said hoarsely. More oily tears pooled in his visor. "I've been branded, kiddo; I'm not gonna let anyone brand you because of it." Komachi's throat caught and she tightened her grip on his shirt, leaning into him. Her chest pressed tightly against his hard, non-giving metal. It made her belly burn.

"I. Don't. Care," she said, grounding her words out between her teeth, tears gathering in her own eyes. "I don't want to be away from you…You made me a promise, remember?" Kikuchiyo's lower jaw ground against his upper.

"Komachi…"

"Remember?"

"Of course I remember." His voice dropped down to a low growl. "How could I not? I already told you…I…I can't, especially now. I can't hold you back." Komachi's face fell forward for a moment as she tried to force her tears back. Her bandaged forehead brushed his shirt, and for a moment she felt the heartbeat in his chest.

"I want you to," she hissed, her fingers curling into fists against his shirt. "I don't care what anyone might see of it or think of it. I want you to keep your promise!" She looked back at him, pleading. His tears finally spilled again.

"I can't."

"Why not?!"

"I'm not right for you!" He gripped her shoulders tightly, almost painfully, anger trickling into his voice. "I can't be. You and me…It can't work! When I transferred to this body, I knew what I might be missing out on. I knew what I probably was losing. If you and I…If I keep my promise I'll surely be taking that part of your life away as well, and I can't risk that." His voice broke and he slumped, curling part of the way over her so that she had to crane her neck to see his face.

"I can't cut your life like that, Komachi. I wouldn't be able to give you...what you want, what you deserve more than anything else in this world." Komachi grit her teeth and fought down an angry scream. He was frustrating her to no end! She clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles went white, but then she relaxed them. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, and looked back up at him. His visor was closed, tears still leaking; he was just within reach. Komachi hardened her resolution; if he wouldn't listen to what she said, she would have to show him what she meant. Komachi untangled her fingers from Kikuchiyo's shirt and reached up to place her hands on either side of his metal face. He jerked at her touch and opened his visor.

"What are you doing?" he asked. She ignored him for a moment, simply gazing up at him, allowing her eyes to flush with emotion. She took in everything there was to see; the glow in his visor, the strength in his jaw, the feeling in the smooth, unmoving panel of his face, the gleam of his scar. She took it all in, not hiding her stare. "Komachi?" Komachi rose up onto her tiptoes and carefully hooked her fingers around his facial plate so that she had some leverage.

"You say you can't give me what I want?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper. Kikuchiyo couldn't seem to find a voice to answer. The light within his visor did not leave her eyes. Komachi let her mouth pucker a little, bringing her lips to full flush. "How do you know?"

Komachi pulled up with all the upper body strength she had and pressed her lips to the line of Kikuchiyo's upper and lower jaw, right where his lips would be if he had any. She worked her lips against the warm, unmoving metal, brushing and drawing softly as she could so as not to seem too forceful. She thought she heard Kikuchiyo's breath catch, but she ignored it. Komachi worked the kiss until her arms shook from the strain of holding herself suspended off the ground. When her arms burned too much to bear her weight any longer, she broke away and dropped, releasing his face from her grip.

Kikuchiyo stared down at Komachi, his stomach gone, his heart pounding. She breathed heavily, her forehead pressed to his front, her hands on either side of her head. For a moment the world fell away completely, leaving the two of them standing in a sliver of something within the nothing. Kikuchiyo was aware his hands were trembling where they still sat perched on her shoulders. He was aware he still stood hunched over, practically enveloping Komachi's slight frame in his broad bulk. But what he was most aware of wasn't there anymore: her lips against his jaws. She'd kissed him. Komachi had actually kissed him. She'd kissed him, and he'd done nothing to stop her. He didn't try to stop her…He hadn't wanted to stop her.

"Why?" he asked, his voice coming out in a croak. Komachi let out a shaky breath and burrowed her face deeper against him despite the armor beneath his shirt.

"I love you," she whispered, the tears all too audible. "I love you, Kikuchiyo. I don't want to live without you; I don't want to be without you." Kikuchiyo's whole body rocked for a moment, as though her words had shoved him from behind.

"You…but..?" Kikuchiyo wasn't sure what he wanted to say. What could he say? She loved him, but why? How could she love him? She had sort of said so before, at the grave site, but now…It seemed so much more real. Komachi trembled against him, small sobs coming from deep within; form the heart.

"Don't leave me," she pleaded, gripping his shirt again. "You can't leave. I love you, Kiku; I always have." Kikuchiyo shuddered; her words made every single part of him burn. But, he couldn't…it wasn't right. She didn't know what she was asking. Kikuchiyo gripped her shoulders and held her away from him, trying not to break as she met his gaze with shining eyes.

"I'm not good for you, Komachi," he said. He tried to sound firm, but his voice only shook more as he denied her. "It wouldn't be right. It would only reflect badly on you even more. I can't hold you back forever with a promise I might never be able to keep." Komachi pushed at his grip, her face cracking and letting the weeps flood out.

"You don't really believe that!" she wailed, trying desperately to fight back to be close to him, though he did his best to resist her. "You feel the same way, I know it! I've known since the moment you came to rescue me! I awoke with you beside me this morning; I want to wake that every day for the rest of my life!" She took a deep breath and a tried to pave her face in stone.

"If you leave, I leave too. I don't want to be away from you for another moment. Please, Kikuchiyo; tell me you feel the same. I know you do; say it! Tell me you love me!" Her words tore at his heart, ripping it to pieces. He felt like he was bleeding inside, his remaining organs bathed in the blood of his desperate heart. She wanted him. She loved him. She needed him. She was willing to throw away everything to be with him, a mechanical killing machine. How could he possibly want to deny her?

Because he felt the same way, and he only wanted to protect her from what such a thing could mean. Kikuchiyo gazed at Komachi, at her tear-stained cheeks, her upturned lips, her radiant eyes, her smooth jaw; the love in her eyes. Kikuchiyo groaned and released her shoulders, pressing his face to his hands. He couldn't...He couldn't take it any longer…Honor wasn't worth it. Self-worth wasn't worth it! The duty of a samurai to his place wasn't worth this anguish! Kikuchiyo removed his hands from his face and rested his gaze on Komachi. She still stared up at him, desperation clinging to her beautiful features.

"You're not giving me a choice," the mech whispered. Komachi tilted her head, a question in her expression, temporarily breaking through the sorrow. Kikuchiyo felt the emotion leave his face, but it stayed within. He knew what he had to do.

Slowly, Kikuchiyo raised his left hand, the still gloved one, and touched the underside of his new jaw. He searched for a moment until he found the switch he was looking for; a small, flat nob just to the left of where his chin would be. He clicked it, his visor never leaving Komachi.

Komachi's eyes widened, her mouth slowly falling open. She wasn't sure what she was witnessing; it was almost too complicated to follow. It didn't look real, and yet, it was. Kikuchiyo's bottom jaw seemed to shatter and fold inward, as did a section of his upper jaw where the two met. New panels appeared where there had previously been smooth metal. Joints bent and folds creased as his jaw narrowed and shrank in. His robot-mouth transformed, smoothly and almost silently, flowing apart and together to form a completely different shape. She could hear the clicks and whirrs of gears and chips working together to shift the panels. It took all of a few seconds, but never in her life had she seen a machine work such meticulous movement.

Where there had once been a pair of square, flat, rudimentary jaws meant to mimic a crude semblance of a mouth, Kikuchiyo's metal face now bore a set of perfect metal lips. Komachi had to blink to make sure she saw correctly. His square robot jaws had folded in and shifted to form a shape that looked just like a human mouth. The curves in his lips were perfect, their size and shape were subtle and not too over exaggerated. The only differences between his mouth and a human mouth were the seam that stretched from the corners of his new mouth to the ends of his jaw, and the folds in the metal that made it look as though his lips were made from multiple panels instead of one solid bar. The upper part of his face hadn't changed at all; it was as if someone had switched out his old lower face and replaced it with a new one.

Komachi stared up at Kikuchiyo, her sorrow over his possibly leaving her suddenly forgotten in the wake of this new transformation. But behind the shock was something even greater: admiration. The design at his new feature was not frightening, disturbing, ugly, or even odd. It was…beautiful. Komachi breathed in heavily, and exhaled, unsure of how to respond. Kikuchiyo made a growling noise in his throat, and stepped towards her until he was towering above her, her neck tilted back so she could see him.

"Wh-at…d-dooo yoouu th-ink?" Kikuchiyo asked quietly. Komachi couldn't help but tilt her head, her brow furrowed in confusion. His formation of the words was clumsy and garbled, though his voice was still the same, possibly even with a more metallic ring to it. The difference here was that he actually used his new mouth to speak, instead of just projecting it from his voice box as he usually did. Kikuchiyo made an annoyed voice and took a moment to massage his jaw with his fingers, tugging at his new metal lips and working them back and forth. Apparently he'd never tried to talk with this new modification before.

Kikuchiyo's gut burned with frustration as he tugged and massaged his mouth. He should have known better than to try and talk with the modification on the first try. He'd never attempted such a thing with the oral-mod Mifune had installed for him, since the young mechanic had said he'd better wait until he had time to practice. He had no time though; there were urgent matters to attend to. When he felt secure with the modification, he looked back down at Komachi and attempted to speak again. It felt so odd, moving his lips and new metal tongue to form words instead of just projecting them. It was work.

"What do you think?" he asked again. Much better. Komachi gasped and put a hand to her mouth, her eyes shining. He inhaled and exhaled, waiting for her to remove her hand. It was blocking his way. Komachi trembled, then slowly lowered her hand, her eyes moony.

"You…but…" She choked for a moment, and he let her gain her composure, trying to ignore the urgency in his chest. "Why?" she asked, mimicking his earlier question. "Why would you…do this?" Kikuchiyo sighed shakily. That was the question he'd been waiting for. He gazed down at Komachi, and raised his hands to cradle her delicate face in his wide palms. She gasped as he leaned down towards her.

"For this," he murmured, and pressed his new lips against hers. He felt her stiffen against him, and he saw her eyes widen even more before he shut the flaps on his visor. He gently moved his mouth against hers, reveling in the soft warmth she presented to him. He hadn't kissed a woman in years, but the memories of how came flooding back to him. He hummed and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, hoping she could understand. At his touch Komachi suddenly unfroze beneath him and began to kiss him back, her lips rising and falling to meet his. He breathed in her hot exhalations and breathed a couple of his own back to her. Her smell wafted his olfactory sensors. It was bliss, but he knew he would have to stop soon. His first task was finished; now he needed to speak to her.

Kikuchiyo reluctantly removed his lips from Komachi's, unshuttering his visor so as to see her reaction. She opened her eyes slowly and kept them open only halfway. They were misty and heavy-lidded, and her mouth was still partially open, as though frozen where his lips had left them. He gazed at her for a moment, drinking in her every feature. He never removed his hands from her cheeks. Komachi sighed, and curled her fingers to his chest.

"Why?" she asked again, her voice merely a breath. Kikuchiyo mimicked her sigh.

"I asked Mifune to make me this modification," he said, slowly, quietly, "because I knew there was a chance that I would fall in love with you, or be in love with you already. Either way, I knew things would change when I returned to you…and I wanted to make damn sure I could properly kiss the woman I love." Komachi's eyes widened again, and she inhaled shakily.

"You…what?" Kikuchiyo pulled back his new mouth to form a true, almost human smile. The effort was straining and he had to stop quickly, so he leaned his helm against her forehead.

"I love you Komachi," he whispered. He kissed her briefly again. "I love you. I don't want to live without you. I need you, always." Komachi stared up at him, her eyes shining, and then she suddenly burst into tears and collapsed against him, tangling her hands in his shirt once more. Kikuchiyo felt her soft form press up against his chest and he shuddered; he could feel so much of her through that thin little shift. He heard Komachi whimper and shiver against him, and he remembered to force his mind to the presence. Kikuchiyo pressed the switch on the underside of his jaw to transform it back to its original square form, and wrapped his arms around the water priestess, holding him as close to himself as he possibly could.

"Why did you push me away for so long?" she asked, her words slightly muffled by his shirt. Kikuchiyo sighed and held her tighter, but not tight enough that he was in danger of hurting her. He felt her heartbeat through her back beneath his hand, and he reached up to run his ungloved fingers through her hair.

"I was scared," he admitted, hating that he sounded so weak in front of her. "I didn't know if it was right for me to feel like this for you. You were just a child when I made my promise; I thought even though I didn't age I might be…too old for you, or not whole enough to deserve you." Komachi snorted into his chest and pounded him with a light fist. He accepted it.

"You lunkhead," she laughed hoarsely. "I told you long ago I loved you just the way you were. That has never changed…in fact my love for you is even stronger now than it was then." She pulled back so he could see her face and laid a hand on his cheek. Kikuchiyo shuddered and reached up to rest his hand over hers. He felt a warm flutter in his abdomen when he realized she was smiling.

"You're the only one I could ever want, Kiku," she whispered. "You're the only man I have ever loved, and the only one I will ever love." Kikuchiyo felt his jaws part slightly, his surprise threatening to overwhelm his deeper feelings for the moment.

"You…called me a man," he said, not bothering to keep the shock out of his voice. Komachi laughed again, and Kikuchiyo's heart fluttered at the beautiful sound.

"Yeah, I did," she giggled, grinning up at him. She smoothed her hand along his bottom jaw, and Kikuchiyo couldn't stop a purr from rumbling up from his throat. A stack of steam shot out of his exhaust pipe, but he wasn't embarrassed. Komachi reached up with her other hand to caress his silver scar with a slender finger. "You're my man, Kiku."

Komachi studied the mech's face, wondering what he was going to do next. It was clear her referring to him as a man—a human term—had stunned him quite a bit, but she was glad it had. She wanted him to know that she saw him for who he was, not what he was. She watched him closely, biting her lip. She very much wanted him to kiss her again. So still did Komachi wait for Kikuchiyo to act that she was fully taken aback when he suddenly swept his arm across her lower back and lifted her off the ground. Komachi gasped and threw her arms around Kikuchiyo's neck for support, but felt foolish for doing so the moment she did; he would never drop her. The mech brought her up so that she was perched right before his face, one hand at her lower back and the other tucked securely beneath her butt. Kikuchiyo leaned forward to nuzzle her cheek with his metal face, his visor glowing and oily tears suddenly streaming down the sides.

"You don't know…how much it means to me to hear you say that," Kikuchiyo said shakily, his voice breaking in happy weepiness. Komachi balked, then started to giggle; his reaction was so adorable it warmed her to no end. Her quiet giggling quickly turned into rancorous laughing as all the anxiety and fear she had been feeling was suddenly washed away. All that was left by her joy at being swept up into the arms of the man she loved. Komachi wrapped her arms around Kikuchiyo's neck and cuddled her cheek against his, still laughing. Kikuchiyo soon began laughing with her, his tears mixing in with the laughter, his broad metal shoulders and chest vibrating with such force and volume Komachi's whole body quivered. She bushed her lips against his audio, and he sighed, curling his arm he held at her back up to her shoulder.

"What do you see when you look at me?" Kikuchiyo asked, his voice still full of laughter. Komachi chuckled and curled her fingers in his hair.

"I see the man I love," she whispered, her lips against his audio. Kikuchiyo laughed again, hard and loud. Komachi laughed with him, and their laughter blended together, filling the glen as completely as the sunlight. Komachi scooted a little bit so she could rest her head in the crook between his neck guard and his jaw, the warmth of his metal skin spreading down her neck and into her body. Kikuchiyo hummed and let out a small cloud of steam.

"Tell me you love me," Komachi whispered against his neck. Kikuchiyo caressed her bare shoulder with gentle metal fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his metal voice wonderfully husky. Komachi shivered at the vibration it made against her chest and neck.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Once more." Kikuchiyo chuckled and reached around to gently touch the back of her head. Komachi leaned back so she could see his dear face.

"I love you," he said, his visor aglow. Komachi beamed at him, and leaned in to kiss his jaw. Kikuchiyo, however, interrupted her attempt by suddenly fixing his great hands beneath her arms and lifting her up above his head. Komachi gasped and laughed in surprise, finding herself looking down at him. "I LOVE YOU!" he boomed, releasing a huge burst of steam as he said it. He spun around in a wide circle, the force of the motion lifting Komachi's feet to whirl behind her. She screamed with laughter, spreading her arms out wide. "My name is Kikuchiyo," the mech thundered, "seventh samurai of Kanna village, and dammit, I LOVE KOMACHI OF KANNA!" Komachi lifted her face to the sky and yelled as loudly as she could, determined not to be outdone by the powerful samurai.

"I LOVE KIKUCHIYO-O-O!" she cried; the end of her exclamation turned into a laugh she simply couldn't hold back.

Kikuchiyo stopped his spinning for a moment and simply stared up at Komachi, still hoisted up above his head. She grinned down at him, positively glowing with contentment. The woman he loved…and she loved him too. He couldn't ask for better luck. He simply could not hope for anything better than to be loved by Komachi as he loved her. And he did love her, more than she could possibly imagine.

"God you're beautiful," he murmured, his heart warming simply voicing it out loud. It felt so good to speak his mind. Komachi continued to smile down at him, gripping his arms with her gentle, delicate hands. Kikuchiyo found himself wondering what could possibly be better than this moment they shared…Well, there was one thing. Kikuchiyo suddenly swept Komachi back down into his arms, moving so quickly she gasped and latched onto him for support, her face paling a bit. He winced when he remembered she was recovering from a concussion; maybe he should have been a little gentler. When Komachi seemed to recover, Kikuchiyo pulled her close and leaned in to brush his jaw against her cheek. She sighed and rubbed against him affectionately. He rumbled in his metal chest at the warmth of her soft skin.

"Marry me," Kikuchiyo whispered. Komachi inhaled sharply and pulled back so she could catch his visor.

"What?" she breathed. Kikuchiyo leaned his helm against her forehead, careful not to apply any pressure to aggravate her injury. He breathed in her watery scent.

"It's time I kept my promise," he murmured. He felt the emotion vibrate in his voice, but he didn't care; at the moment he didn't give two swings if he sounded tough or not. "I want to keep it; hell, I need to keep it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Komachi, will you be my wife?" Komachi gazed into his visor; her eyes were so close they were all he could see. Then, she giggled and raised a hand to stroke his jaw. He shuddered.

"Do you even need to ask?" she laughed, leaning back and giving him a wry smile. Kikuchiyo blew out a stack of steam. She could be so annoying sometimes.

"I did ask," he growled, "and I want an answer. Komachi, water priestess of Kanna, will you marry me, a simple mech samurai?" Komachi giggled again, so hard this time she doubled over, her forehead grazing his face. He waited. When she next looked up, tears were streaking her face, like sparkling raindrops in the sunlight. Before Kikuchiyo could ask what was wrong, Komachi leaned in and kissed him where his mouth had been. He technically wouldn't have had to stop talking, but he did so simply on instinct.

"Yes," she whispered, her lips still against the seam of his jaws. Kikuchiyo's guts tightened at the simple word. Komachi moved her lips from the front of his sort-of mouth to the corner of his bottom jaw, then to the scar in the middle of his face. She whispered a word with each kiss.

"Yes, I'll marry you. Who else would I marry but you, Kiku?" Kikuchiyo sighed and hugged her close, reveling in the softness of her body against his solid metal. He could get used to this.

"I love you," he crooned into her ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck

"I love you too," she replied. Then she leaned back again and ran a finger over the seam of his jaws. "Now, kiss me again, you idiot." Kikuchiyo chuckled and reached up to flick the switch beneath his lower jaw. The metal plates bent and folded in once more to create the mouth he had requested for this specific purpose.

Komachi's lips were against his before they'd even finished settling.

**Okay everybody, show of hands: Who wants a lemon chapter? This story is M-rated, so technically I could. I have mixed reservations about this. The next chapter is probably the last, and it's the wedding chapter. Wedding usually means consumation...So...I've read someone's review that they'd want to see some lemon between Kiku and Komachi...Does anyone else want that? Leave a comment saying if you want one or not. I'd be willing to make two separate endings, one with real lemon and one that's just fluff. Tell me what you want and I'll GIVE IT TO YOU! Again, thanks for the comments; you all rule.**


	8. Chapter 7: The Love

Well, here it is folks; the final official installment of Oil and Water. Sorry it took so long; I had a research paper and like two tests to do, so I haven't had much time. Keep a look out for the special M-rated bonus chapter to go along with this. Not sure if it'll be an added part or a separate story, but it will definitely happen. For now though, just enjoy the ending to this wonderful story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Administration removed the Inter-Alternate Chapter. If you want to read it, visit my DeviantArt account. My username is SwamplingLvr. Look in my journal entries. That's the only place I can put it. Hopefully you guys can find it. It's the only thing I'll have posted on it. This is not my choice; administration apparently changed their minds about lemons. Tears all around. ?qh=§ion=&global=1&q=SwamplingLvr#/art/Oil-and-Water-Alter-Interim-Chap ter-362604403?_sid=425373ce Here's the link, just in case.**

P.S. I went back and read thought the whole thing and...I noticed I wasn't very consisitent with the whole Kirara Tetsuo first child thing, so here's what you need to know. Kirara and Tetsuo have been married five years; their daughter Yukio was born the same year they married. Kirara is pregnant with their second child. Okay? Good.

Enjoy!

Oil and Water

Chapter 7: The Love

Kirara sat on Heihachi's porch, leaning over relaxed with one hand resting on her round belly. She watched Heihachi chase her five-year-old daughter, Yukio, around a tree in his wheelchair. The little girl shrieked with laughter and danced out of reach from Heihachi's waving scabbard. The retired samurai yelled in big, exaggerated threats but kept his laid-back smile plastered onto his face. Kirara chuckled at the sight. She hoped that running around with Heihachi's swift wheels on his heels would wear Yukio out, so she wouldn't feel the need to cause any mischief during the wedding ceremony. Her heart pounded when she remembered the big event set to take place later that day. Komachi, her dear little sister, was marrying Kikuchiyo, the man she truly loved. It was more than anything could hope for Komachi, and she was truly excited. Yet…Kirara still found herself wondering of what might have been, had she acted differently after the war. Tetsuo was a kind, understanding man, but there was still a part of Kirara that wished things had been different.

'Oh well,' she thought sullenly, 'nothing to do about it now.' She rubbed her belly, smiling at the enthusiastic kicks from the baby within; the baby Tetsuo had given her. Her eyes roved back up to the little girl romping about with the wheelchair-bound samurai. She cherished Yukio, and knew the young one couldn't ask for a better father. Kirara sighed, and then stood up; it was almost time to leave for the ceremony. Since Komachi was moving forward, maybe she should as well.

In the village graveyard, about half a mile downwind from the rice fields, Panko knelt beside his brother's grave. He and his father had buried Takao beside their grandfather, with the help of some of their friends. They placed his two halves together as they would be if he were whole, trying their best to keep his guts from spilling out into the earth. His father decided to take time away from Kanna to mourn his son.

Panko was sickened at his father's readiness to simply bend to Rikichi's will and forget about revenge. Takao had been murdered, for God's sake! The young man grabbed a handful of dirt from Takao's grave in front of him and filtered the earth through his callused fingers. He wouldn't stand idly by while his brother's murderer got what he wanted and married the woman his brother loved! Panko thrust a fist into the soft earth and stood up, shaking with rage. He would not let this injustice stand.

Katsushiro, fifth samurai of Kanna, gazed around at the rice fields being bathed in sunlight. A breeze caressed the trees and grass, and little birds and insects dipped into the irrigation trenches in the rice paddies for a sip of cool water. Katsushiro brushed his hair out of his eyes and continued his trek down the hill from Wing Rock into Kanna's forest. His daito hung loosely from his belt, his palm thumping against it every few steps. Even though he hadn't had to use his sword in almost ten years, just touching it was still a comfort to him. He fingered the scar across his left cheek; whenever he visited Kanna, he always felt compelled to touch the mark left on him by the war.

'I wonder if Heihachi-dono would be willing to spar today,' Katsushiro thought as he descended into Kanna's forest. 'He didn't want to do any real work the last time I was here. Hopefully he's kicked the laziness habit.' Katsushiro allowed himself a chuckle. Heihachi may have proclaimed he had given up samurai practice forever, but every once and a while Katsushiro was able to get him up and around, so to speak.

As he neared the bend of the valley where the river and the forest connected, Katsushiro heard a frantic shout from down the path. He lifted his eyes up, his hand instantly finding his sword, his awareness heightening. Someone usually only made that kind of noise when they were in trouble. A frantic pounding of footsteps thundered up the path towards him, and Katsuchiro lowered himself into a defensive crouch. He did not draw his sword yet; he wanted to be sure this was a threat he was facing. A figure rounded the corner of the path, and Katsushiro's eyes widened as he tried to bring their face into focus. He cursed his inconvenient myopia. The only other person he'd told about his sudden onset of nearsightedness was Heihachi; not even Kambei knew about his student's decreased sight. But that didn't hinder Katsushiro's path to become a greater samurai; he waved it off as a minor inconvenience.

Impatient to find out whom the approaching figure was, Katsushiro called out in a sharp, commanding tone.

"Who goes there?" he said loudly, sliding his sword just a few inches from its scabbard. The flash of the blade caught on the sunlight and the figure halted, throwing his palms in the air. "State your name," Katsushiro ordered.

"It's me, great samurai!" the figure called back. His voice was that of a young man, one Katsushiro instantly recognized.

"Panko?" he asked. The figure nodded and quickly jogged the remaining yard between the two of them. His face sharpened and Katsushiro felt his heartbeat slow in relief as he realized it was indeed the elder plow son. He sheathed his sword and straightened up, a concerned smile on his face. "Was that you who cried out just now?" he asked. "Is there something wrong my boy?" Panko eyes were red and puffy, like he'd been crying for a long time, and he trembled with what could have been a combination of rage and sadness. Katsushiro frowned, and then laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "What's troubling you, Panko?" Panko took in a few shuddering breaths and gripped the samurai's arm.

"It's…terrible, great samurai," he gasped, fresh tears pooling in his wide eyes. "My brother's been…murdered!"

Katsushiro's blood grew cold, and he felt a throb in his neck. Takao was dead? It couldn't be; he was only twenty-two, and he was such a pleasant young man. Who could possibly want to kill someone as free-spirited and kind as Takao? Katsushiro grit his teeth as sudden anger flared in his chest. He grabbed Panko's shoulders and held him rigidly in front of him.

"Who did it Panko?" Katsushiro demanded. "Give me a name. I swear I will not allow such a crime to go unpunished." Panko's eyes widened and a gasp caught in his throat.

"Really great samurai?" he asked breathlessly. Katsushiro nodded fiercely.

"It is my duty as a samurai of Kanna to protect its people, and though I was not here to prevent this…horrible act, I will ensure Takao's death is avenged." Panko inhaled sharply and nodded, reaching forward to grip the front of Katsushiro's cloak. The samurai saw vivid desperation in the young man's eyes; he clearly wanted justice as soon as possible.

"I don't remember his name," Panko said breathlessly, his lips white as his knuckles. His voice cracked with rage. "But, he is a samurai, a rogue. He came to this village expecting we welcome him with shelter on his travels." Katsushiro let out a snarl; a true samurai should know he cannot simply demand respect; he must earn it. "We didn't like the look of him, so Rikichi-sama told him to seek shelter somewhere else. The samurai flew into a rage and told us we farmers should know our place. He's a mech, just like the Nobuseri. He even said himself he once worked for the bandits." Katsushiro's temper flared higher; a disciple of the Nobuseri dare threaten his protectorate village?

"Why did he kill Takao?" Katsushiro demanded. Panko's face twisted in rage.

"The mech's attention caught on Lady Komachi. He's been here for at least a week and he took a fancy to her. He said he would leave if she came with him." Katsushiro roared and shoved Panko away, for fear he would hurt the young man if he stayed too close. His guts twisted in disgust.

"Did he hurt Lady Komachi?" he asked. Panko's eyes darkened.

"Takao stepped in to defend her. He was in love with her, you know. He wanted to ask her to marry him, but hadn't gotten the chance yet." Katsushiro blinked for a moment; this was news.

"Really?" Panko nodded.

"He told the samurai to leave Lady Komachi alone, and the mech…" Panko's voice broke, more tears gathering. His fists trembled in such fury Katsushiro wondered if it wasn't him who had the possibility of coming to harm. "That filthy mech killed my brother. He just cut him down like he was a stalk of wheat! No chance to defend himself at all!" Katsushiro closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. It was disgraceful, no, evil! Such a monster could never be called a samurai. Katsushiro ran a clenched hand through his long hair. Why hadn't anyone sent word to him sooner?

"Where is he now?" he asked. Panko swallowed hard and pointed down the path toward the village.

"He's insane, I tell you. He said if Lady Komachi doesn't marry him he'll kill everyone in the village just like my brother. You have to do something, great samurai. I fear for our water priestess if she obeys him, and I fear for the rest of us if she doesn't." Katsushiro nodded vigorously. He reached over and drew his daito, setting his jaw and steeling himself. He'd gone almost three years without facing any kind of combat, but he wasn't about to back down from such a fight now. His friends were in trouble…Kirara's sister was in danger. A tiny needle of pain flared in the samurai's mind when he thought of the elder water priestess, but he shoved it away angrily. Now was not the time to dwell on past hurts.

"Take me to him, Panko," Katsushiro growled, nodding at the path. "I show this monster what it means to be a true samurai."

Katsushiro pelted down the path towards the village, Panko hot on his heels. His determined gaze was wrenched rigidly forward, so he did not see the triumphant grin on the plow worker's face.

Komachi felt as if her chest was twisting itself into different forms of knots, which unwound and retied themselves again. She stood behind the door to her sister's hut, staring at the floor and fumbling with the obi on her kimono. The teak-red robe had belonged to the girls' mother and worn at her own wedding. Kirara had worn the kimono at her wedding to Tetsuo, and insisted her sister follow the tradition for hers. Komachi shuddered and ran her fingers through her freshly combed hair. She was finally marrying Kikuchiyo, the one man she wanted to share her life with. He would become her husband, just as he had promised. How long had she waited for this moment? Was it the whole sixteen years since the war, or just the years since she had started to have more than child-adoration for the mech samurai? She didn't really care which one was the correct answer; all she knew was that the throbbing of her expectant heart wrestled painfully with the twisting in her nervous gut. Her thoughts drifted in different directions, from memories of her adventures with Kikuchiyo, to the events that had transpired in the last few days, to her love for the samurai, and finally to what would be awaiting the two of them once the ceremony and celebrations were over. A radical and unexpected shiver passed up and down Komachi's back. She understood the dynamics of being part of a marriage, having an already married sibling. She knew it was tradition for man and wife to consummate their union following the end of the celebrations. Unlike most villages, Kanna did not practice the group gathering around the couple's hut behavior, but everyone knew where the newlyweds went after all the festivities were over. The thought of her and Kikuchiyo sharing the final, deepest step of intimacy filled her with both anxiety and an almost painful yearning. The yearning was what alarmed her most, and she had to fight to keep it in check. She had to focus on the wedding first, and then she could worry about the rest later.

A soft knock on her door yanked Komachi back up to the surface of the present. She shook herself and straightened up, folding her hands in front and tucking her feet together.

"Come in," she said, wincing at how shrill her voice sounded. The doors slid over a couple of inches and Kirara poked her head inside, a gentle smile lifting her lips.

"It's almost time now," the elder water priestess said. She slipped in the doorway and then pulled it shut behind her. Komachi couldn't fathom how her sister could slip into a room like that with a belly as full as hers was. Kirara grinned and moved forward to clasp Komachi's trembling hands. Komachi desperately hoped she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

"Where's Yukio-chan?" she asked. Kirara chuckled.

"Tetsuo took her to find a spot to stand, though I doubt she'll linger by his side for very long. She's so excited to be the flower girl." Komachi grimaced.

"Is, ah, everyone already out there?"

"Just about. Rikichi asked me to come and fetch you, so they'll all be gathered by the time we get you out of here." She squeezed Komachi's hands and smiled warmly at her. "Are you nervous, darling?" Komachi swallowed hard, feeling her dowsing crystal clink against her arm. She wanted to say she wasn't nervous at all, that she was simply excited. But she didn't want to lie out right to her sister, especially since Kirara probably knew what it was like to have pre-wedding jitters. Kirara must have seen the truth in her face, because she made a sympathetic noise and wrapped her arms around Komachi. Komachi started, but quickly relaxed into her sister's warm embrace. The baby within Kirara moved against her chest, and Komachi giggled despite her worries.

"You have nothing to fear," Kirara whispered, stroking Komachi's hair. "Kikuchiyo is probably just as nervous as you are, maybe even more." She pulled back for a moment to study her sister's face and outfit. "How could he not be? He's marrying a beauty unlike any in this village." Komachi blushed and looked away, biting her lip. Kirara gently grasped her chin between her thumb and index finger and turned her face back forward. "It's okay to be nervous," she said quietly. She stroked Komachi's chin with her thumb, her eyes shining and a sort of sad happiness settling on her year-weary face. "Grandmother would be so proud of you, as would our mother." Komachi nodded, the burning of tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes.

"Do you think…he'll still want to?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. The light returned to Kirara's eyes and she spread her smile.

"He wouldn't dare back out now," she said firmly, "lest he call himself a coward. And I know he loves you, my dear." Komachi remembered Kikuchiyo's words in her ear, his vow of love, and she smiled as well. She met Kirara's eyes and nodded. Kirara hooked her arm with Komachi's and led her toward the door.

"Good, now, let's get this wedding underway, hm?"

Kikuchiyo clenched his fists so hard he nearly left dents in his palm. He glanced up for the fifth time at Rikichi, standing to his right at the head of the makeshift aisle. Rikichi offered him the same reassuring smile he had each time they made eye contact, and Kikuchiyo simply grunted and looked back down at the ground. He ground his jaws together and exhaled a blast of steam, feeling as though he was melting from the outside in. Only a few more minutes until the big moment; he'd never felt so scared in his life. In just a few more moments, he and Komachi would be exchanging their vows. He wasn't sure if he could remember what he wanted to say. There was the standard repeat-after-Rikichi lines the two of them would say for sure, but Kikuchiyo planned to say a little more before he and Komachi closed the ritual. Could he do it? Would he remember the words in the correct order? Would he say them before or after whatever she said? What would she say? When they kissed, should he kiss her with his oral-mod or just with his not-mouth? God, he felt like he was about to keel over on the spot. Maybe he should just shut down and let the ceremony proceed without him.

"There she is, Kikuchiyo!" Rikichi said softly, jolting the mech out of his panic-induced stupor. Kikuchiyo stiffened, and slowly turned his head to the left. Half of Kanna village was gathered in the meeting center, arranged in two neat blocks on either side of a cleared path in the dirt. No one wore anything glamorous or official, and there were no chairs or rugs to sit on. The farmers simply stood and waited, anticipation hanging like a fog around them. The crowd consisted mainly of those who lived in the village during the war, along with a few well-wishers who were eager to see their water priestess wed. Most of the newer settlers had opted not to come to the ceremony, since their feelings toward Kikuchiyo were still ambiguous. The women held their children firmly by their sides; the men crossed their arms and grinned expectantly. But not a single one of them drew Kikuchiyo's attention. No, what Kikuchiyo's visor's caught on was the goddess that had materialized at the head of the aisle. It took a moment for Kikuchiyo to separate fantasy and reality and realize that the goddess was Komachi. But, it wasn't Komachi like he'd seen her before. Her hair was combed and pulled up into a bun, pinned together with two sticks with sakura buds at the end. Her kimono was a deep red, even deeper than his armor's color, and it clung to her womanly figure in a way that had his metal steaming. Her hands were folded safely in front, her elbow bent out to accommodate Kirara's guiding hand. Okara stood just to the front of her right, her mischievous grin for once muted to a happy smile. Komachi's eyes were cast down to the ground when she first approached, but as she stepped on the long path to the front of the aisle, she slowly raised them up to meet Kikuchiyo's visor.

It was as if an arc of pure energy blasted between them at that moment. Kikuchiyo's awareness of the world completely fell away as he and Komachi's gazes met. All he could see was her, and he knew he was all she could see. He felt as if he could read her very thoughts through that one simple look: she was nervous as he was, but she was excited too. She was eager to get this ceremony under way. She was anxious to be married to him. He wondered if she could feel his thoughts and feelings too. Did she see how nervous he was? He sure hoped not; he was a samurai. If he could cut down Nobuseri with a flaming tree and halt a crashing airship, he could certainly face his own wedding.

But then, like the sun pushing through the clouds after a thunderstorm, Komachi smiled at him. Kikuchiyo's chest lightened as a mighty exhale escaped in the form of a steam cloud. He remembered why they were both there, and he hoped she could see the smile he tried to give her with his lack-of mouth. The woman he loved was there before him, waiting to be joined to him forever. What more could he ask for?

"Maybe you should stop staring at her, Kikuchiyo-dono." Kikuchiyo jumped and whipped around to level his gaze at Heihachi. The retired samurai sat in his wheelchair behind Kikuchiyo, in his place as best man. His laidback grin had a flavor of sarcasm around it, and Kikuchiyo growled in annoyance.

"Why should I?" Kikuchiyo hissed, angling himself so he could face the aisle and still see Heihachi out of the corner of his visor. He did not, however, take his visor off of Komachi "Can you see her? She's freaking gorgeous." Heihachi chuckled.

"Yeah, I can see her. We all can. But, maybe if you stopped staring she would actually move forward. You do want to actually marry her today, right?" Kikuchiyo balked, then took a closer look at his bride-to-be. Apparently his intent stare had her rooted to the spot, Kirara tugging insistently on her arm. Kikuchiyo felt his face plate boil and he quickly averted his gaze. "There you go," said Heihachi, the laughter still in his voice. Kikuchiyo was sure if he had skin his cheeks would be as red as his armor.

The procession was quick and clean. Kirara's daughter Yukio spread white petals down the aisle, giggling and dancing around in a thrill at being the center of attention for a few brief moments. Kikuchiyo was surprised at how much the little girl looked like her mother; same eyes, same nose, same mouth, even the same ears. The only thing of Tetsuo he could see in her was her greenish hair. Okara hurried down the aisle after her to take her place abreast to Heihachi, her jaw clenched as though she was holding in a laugh. Then, Kirara and Komachi approached, so slowly Kikuchiyo wanted to pull his hair in anticipation. Komachi's cheeks flushed and she cast her eyes back to the ground; Kikuchiyo hoped he didn't make her too nervous. When they reached the head of the aisle, Kirara turned and kissed her sister on the cheek, then stepped away to her spot just in front of Okara. Komachi finally raised her eyes back up to Kikuchiyo and smiled again. If Rikichi said anything, the samurai didn't hear it. He couldn't feel his own breath, nor could he hear his own heartbeat. All he was aware of was Komachi's smiling face. Then someone nudged him on the elbow, and he vaguely heard Heihachi's whispered instruction.

"Take her hand, you idiot." Kikuchiyo nodded numbly, then extended his hand down to Komachi. His stomach clenched and his heart rate shuddered when he saw how badly his hand shook. Komachi took his hand in hers, turned it over and gently brushed a kiss on his gloved palm. That alone was enough to snap Kikuchiyo out of his reverie. He shook himself and gave her a robot smile, and the two of them turned to face Rikichi, hands clasped between them.

Katsushiro and Panko raced down the forest path, the entance to Kanna village looming ever closer.

"We must hurry!" Panko pleaded from behind Katsushiro. "I think the mech plans on forcing Lady Komachi to marry him today. We can't let him take her!"

"Don't worry," Katsushiro growled, picking up the pace as the village entrance finally ceased to blur before him. "I won't let this monster hurt anyone else."

The two of them burst out of the tree line and halted for a moment, casting wary eyes around. The village almost seemed deserted at first glance, not a single person to be seen in or out of the huts. Katsushiro gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly his hand cramped, cursing his low visual distance. He then spotted a mass of what looked like people gathered in the village center, and he stiffened.

"Panko," he whispered, nudging the young man with his elbow. "Is that it? I see something going on over there." He squinted to try and make out the figure standing out among the crowd. It looked like a mech, towering completely over the heads of the farmers. Katsushiro was sure he saw a sword on its back. Panko gasped and pointed frantically.

"That's him!" he shrieked, grasping Katsushiro painfully by the shoulder. "That's my brother's killer! Oh my God, it's already happening!" Katsushiro grit his teeth and took off towards the crowd, his daito angled for the attack.

"Not if I can help it," he snarled.

"So remember to always cherish each other," Rikichi intoned, grinning at the prospective couple, "and lean on each other when you need it. Now, if you could turn to each other, we'll start the vow exchange." Kikuchiyo and Komachi pivoted to face each other, reaching to clasp both hands. Kikuchiyo wondered if he would have to say his vows first, and if he'd rather wait or just get it over with. But, before anyone could say anything about anybody, a horrible, rage-filled battle cry tore through the peaceful morning air, making everyone gathered wince in surprise. Kikuchiyo's defensive programming booted up and he stiffened, his shoulders tensing and his senses heightening. Komachi's smile disappeared and she gasped, turning to look towards the direction of the cry. Kikuchiyo gripped her hand and pulled her back while simultaneously stepping forward, effectively putting himself between her and the interruption.

"What the hell?" Heihachi's smile also vanished and he wheeled himself to perch beside Kikuchiyo. The two samurai reached for their swords, but before they could draw them, an astonished exclamation shattered their edginess.

"Katsushiro?" Kirara cried, her hands over her mouth. Rikichi pushed out from behind Kikuchiyo and Komachi, and offered his own exclamation.

"Great samurai!" Kikuchiyo's visor latched onto the body barreling towards the gathered crowd, and his heart leapt in excitement, temporarily blotting out his previous defensiveness. Katsushiro was racing towards them from the village entrance, and Kikuchiyo ran his visual feed over every detail of his old friend's face. The youngest samurai had definitely aged in the sixteen years since the end of the war, perhaps even more so than Heihachi or anyone else he had known. The man's formally boyish face had lost its roundness and soft edges, to be replaced with a broad jaw and well-defined cheekbones, as well as a surprisingly strong brow. He had a few more scars than before, and a lot more hair. His simple trainee ponytail had bloomed into a wind-tossed mane of green streaked with grey; something Kikuchiyo wondered wasn't a subtle show of homage to the man's sensei. Kikuchiyo's excitement would have been ecstasy if it weren't for the rage twisting Katsushiro's handsome features, or the sword held at a perfect strike angle at his side as he pelted towards them. It was almost as if he was planning to attack someone…

"Hey, Katsu!" Kikuchiyo stepped down into the aisle, hands held up in greeting. He would have been a little more enthusiastic, but Katsushiro's manner was too disconcerting to ignore. When the youngest samurai reached the center of the aisle, he halted, kicking up a cloud of dust around his feet. He gritted his teeth and wrenched his sword forward, stepping into a fighting stance. Kikuchiyo eyed the daito, freshly sharpened in the gleam of the sunlight. He held his hands up where they were and slowly took another step forward.

"Don't take one more step!" Katsushiro snarled. Kikuchiyo halted, his visor glowing.

"What's up with you, Katsu?" he asked heartily, trying to sound amused where he really felt worried. Katsushiro's glower turned uglier than it had been before.

"How do you know my name?" he demanded. Kikuchiyo started to answer, but Katsushiro simply shook his head and ground out more of a shout. "I don't care! I know all that you've done, mech, and I intend to see to it you are given the justice you deserve!"

Kikuchiyo's blood-oil compound went cold. He stared down at the green-haired samurai, unable to fathom what the man had said. Had he just…?

"Katsu," he said, the hurt suddenly bubbling forward like blood from a gash, "don't you recognize me?"

"We have never crossed paths," Katsushiro snarled. Kikuchiyo started, his jaws parting in shock.

"What are you talking about? It's me, you're old pal Kikuchiyo." Katsushiro's scowl broke for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion, but then he shook his head and fixed the scowl back in place.

"How dare you!" he spat. "You think you can fool me with a false voice, mech? I know my friend Kikuchiyo, and you are not him. He died from his wounds a long time ago. You obviously questioned the farmers beforehand to find out about him. So, you knew I was coming? Then you shouldn't be surprised to see me. Draw your sword and fight me, murderer!" Kikuchiyo balked, stepping back a pace. The crowd around them erupted into outraged protests, but Katsushiro held up his hand for silence. Unsure, the farmers obeyed. "Now, now, no need to worry, people of Kanna," he said solemnly, still glaring at Kikuchiyo. "I have been told all of what has happened, and I promise you that this...monstrous excuse for a samurai," he pointed at Kikuchiyo, "will no longer be a threat to you. I have come to drive him off." He angled his sword back, his eyes positively deadly. "You will not take Lady Komachi, you bandit. She has free will, as do the rest of these good people. They do not cower under your metal foot like cowards any longer. Now, step away from Lady Komachi and face your justice."

"Katsushiro!" Before anyone could stop her, Kirara ran forward and put herself between the two samurai, arms spread. Katsushiro's face paled and his scowl disappeared completely.

"Madam Kirara?" he said in shock. "What are you doing?" Kirara shook her head, her face anguished. From somewhere in the second row, Tetsuo pushed forward to stand near the aisle, should anything happen. Little Yukio stared wide-eyed at her mother, hands to her mouth.

"You can't do this, Katsushiro," Kirara said pleadingly. Katsushiro grimaced, his face pained, as though just looking at her was difficult for him.

"Please, move Kirara. I don't want you to get hurt. That mech is dangerous."

"No, he isn't! You don't understand—"

"No, I do understand. It's alright, Panko told me everything." A blast of steam exploded from Kikuchiyo's exhaust pipe.

"PANKO!?" he roared, dropping his hands, which had clenched into fists. Katsushiro's scowl returned.

"Yes, that's right!" he growled. "You murdered his brother for trying to protect Lady Komachi from you, you monster. Now you're forcing her to marry you or you'll kill the rest of the villagers, just like poor Takao."

"That's a lie!" Komachi pushed past Kikuchiyo and stomped over to stand beside her sister. Kikuchiyo's heart pounded and his breath caught at the sight of his bride-to-be facing down an angled sword. He wanted to move to shield her, but he wasn't sure if Katsushiro might strike if he moved, and he didn't want Komachi to be caught in the crossfire. Komachi glared at Katsushiro, so menacingly that the samurai balked a second time, his eyes widening.

"Lady Komachi?"

"Kiku is not a murderer!" Komachi shrieked, stamping her foot. "He killed Takao to protect me! Takao kidnapped me because I didn't want to marry him, and Kiku came to rescue me. Takao was about to kill me, so Kiku killed him. He had no choice."

"That's the real lie!" Kikuchiyo looked up and his insides boiled at the sight of Takao's older brother trudging down the aisle, his face red with rage. "That _mech_ killed my brother in cold blood! He deserves to die too!" Komachi howled in fury and flew past Katsushiro at the plow worker. She balled her slim hand in a fist and threw it at Panko, who was too stunned to react. Her fist sunk into Panko's right eye, throwing the plow worker back a few steps. He didn't stumble really because she hit him with much force; it was more from surprise. Everyone stared at Komachi, with her reddened face, her hair slightly undone from running at Panko, her fist shaking in the air. Kikuchiyo, despite the serious situation, couldn't help but feel a rush of admiration and amusement at his bride's feisty action. It was…sexy.

"How dare you!" Komachi screeched. She then slapped Panko hard across the face. "You think you can just tell lies to turn friends against each other just for your own selfish means? This is my wedding day, dammit! I'm not going to let your hurt feelings get in the way of me marrying the man I love!" Panko stared at her, his face livid beneath the blooming bruise across his eye and the red welt across his cheek. His arm twitched, like he was about to slap her, but then an arm flew out of the crowd and pounded Panko, hard, in the temple. The plow worker crumpled and collapsed onto the ground, out cold.

"Foolish boy," said Sanae, shaking her hand out to stave off the sting.

Katsushiro whipped around to stare at Komachi, his sword slowly lowering from its ready position.

"Love?" he said, his voice almost comically high. "You…love him? Wait, did you just call him Kiku?" Komachi glared at Katsushiro; apparently she had no room for sympathy for someone who had been fooled by such an outlandish lie.

"That," she snapped, pointing at Kikuchiyo, "is Kiku. Ki-ku-chi-yo. He didn't die sixteen years ago; he was fully repaired. He just looks different because his wounds were so great, he was reformatted. Look again, Katsu; you'll see." Katsushiro looked back around, his eyes narrowed suspiciously up at Kikuchiyo. Kikuchiyo felt nailed under his gaze, like being pounded with a hammer. But, he did not look away.

"He looks nothing like Kikuchiyo," Katsushiro said warily. Kikuchiyo ground his jaws and started to say something, but Heihachi wheeled himself around and into the aisle, creating yet another barrier between the two samurai.

"Come here and look closer, Katsushiro," said the woodcutter calmly, his relaxed smile back in place. Katsushiro latched his gaze onto Heihachi.

"Heihachi-dono?"

"It's okay, Katsushiro," said Heihachi, beckoning gently. "I know you can't see very well anymore. You'll feel better when you can actually see Kikuchiyo clearly."

Everyone fell silent, or more so than they had been. Kirara stared at Katsushiro, her hand over her mouth, as did Komachi. Kikuchiyo's guts clenched. Katsushiro couldn't see him? Katsushiro's eyes widened and he gave Heihachi a very hurt look.

"You promised…"

"I know I did, but obviously this problem has gotten out of hand. Now, come here and greet your friend. It is his wedding day after all." Heihachi tilted his head back and gave Kikuchiyo the thumbs up. Katsushiro slowly sheathed his sword, then took a few cautious steps forward.

"Closer," said Heihachi. Kikuchiyo could see Katsushiro's throat work in a swallow. Katsushiro walked forward the last length of the aisle and came to a halt just a few feet in front of Kikuchiyo. When they appraised each other, Katsushiro's eyes grew the roundest Kikuchiyo had ever seen them. It almost made him laugh. Katsushiro made a choking noise, like a fish out of water.

"Ki…Kikuchiyo-dono?" he gasped. Kikuchiyo couldn't take it; that boyish awe from the young samurai he befriended long ago had finally returned to this war-hardened man that stood before him. Kikuchiyo guffawed like an idiot, doubling over and clutching at his stomach. His laughter was contagious to everyone around him, and soon the entire wedding party was laughing, even though they had all been either afraid, angry or worried just a few seconds before. Kikuchiyo straightened up, wiping a tear from his visor, and beamed down at Katsushiro. He opened his arms and wrapped the youngest samurai in a fierce bear hug that had Katsushiro yelping in discomfort.

"Katsu, you hard-head!" Kikuchiyo laughed, squeezing the air out of the man's lungs. "If you wanted to crash my wedding, all you had to do was ask!" When he finally set Katsushiro down, the man needed to take a moment to catch his breath before he could speak again.

"I…I don't understand," Katsushiro wheezed. His cheeks were slightly flushed, like he was embarrassed. "I haven't heard a single word of you since the end of the war. Why didn't you write to me or anything?" Kikuchiyo scratched the back of his helm, huffing sheepishly.

"Guess it never occurred to me, but I mean, it's not like I knew where you were. I haven't heard word of you since then. I only found out what you've been up to from Heihachi." Katsushiro sighed heavily and shook his head, his shoulders finally relaxing.

"I can't believe this. This was the last way I wanted to see you if we ever met up again." A frown crossed the man's face and he looked back up at Kikuchiyo. "Is it true, though? Did you really kill Takao?" Kikuchiyo's shoulders sagged, and he felt a hole open in his chest. His bullet wound and newly replaced audio flared in dull pain.

"Yeah, it's true," he said solemnly. "I had no choice though. He kidnapped Komachi and held her captive after she turned down his proposal. I went to get her back and we got in a fight. Takao shot me in the side and Komachi tried to help, but he knocked her out. She got a concussion from hitting the wall. Takao was going to shoot her too—he was completely nuts. I had no choice; if I hadn't killed him he would have killed her…and I couldn't let that happen." He glanced at Komachi, who still stood in the aisle. "I love her, Katsu, that's why I'm marrying her." Katsushiro glanced back at Komachi as well, and saw the gentle smile curving her lips as she returned Kikuchiyo's look. The youngest samurai sighed again and rubbed his eyes. Kikuchiyo thought he saw his bottom lip tremble. But, when Katsushiro returned his gaze to the mech's, he was beaming.

"It seems I have made a terrible mistake, old friend. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." Kikuchiyo let out another boom of laughter and once again swept Katsushiro up into a hug.

"Consider it forgotten!" he roared. "Now why don't you go stand next to Heihachi? I need another groom's man, since Komachi has two already. Rikichi, let's get this wedding back on track, huh?"

The rest of the wedding went smoothly, especially after a few of the men from the village, including Mosuke and Yohei, locked Panko in a storage hut. Katsushiro stood behind Heihachi in the groom's men's line, watching the ceremony with a calm smile. Kikuchiyo and Komachi exchanged their vows with much emotion, to the point that both of them where in tears by the time they were done. When Rikichi instructed them to slip their rings on each other's fingers, Kikuchiyo's hand shook horribly as he put Komachi's on her slender finger. She smiled up at him and tugged his glove off, and gently slid the circle of silver over his metal finger. Her touch was soft as fleece, and he shuddered.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Rikichi said with a grin. "Or should I say, 'mech and wife'?" Komachi held Kikuchiyo's hand in her own.

"'Man and wife' is just fine," she said softly. Kikuchiyo lifted his free hand to stroke her cheek.

"Man and wife, eh?" he said, the grin in his voice obvious to everyone. "I could get used to that." Komachi laughed, and then sprung like a gazelle up into Kikuchiyo's surprised arms. Before he could get a word in, Komachi pressed her lips to his jaws, her arms circling up around his neck and her hands cupping the back of his head. The crowd cheered wildly, whistling and stamping their feet. Kikuchiyo didn't bother to transform his jaws; he simply reveled in the soft yet heated presence of Komachi's lips against his metal not-mouth, like she anchored him to the world with her soft presence.

"I love you," Komachi whispered against his jaws, not removing her lips. Kikuchiyo rumbled in his chest, a warm glow spreading like lava throughout his body.

"I love you more," he intoned, so only she could hear him.

Around the two newlyweds, Kirara caught Katsushiro's eye, or at least she thought she did. He stared right at her, his expression completely blank. She flushed and looked away for a quick moment, but then wrenched her gaze back to him. Something passed between the two of them, like an unspoken consent.

The wedding feast was already laid out and ready to go when the ceremony was officially over. The farmers of Kanna broke out their best stocks of sake and gorged on rice and leeks, along with a specially prepared set of wild ducks caught just for the occasion. Kikuchiyo, Katsushiro and Heihachi talked and laughed about their adventures and exploits, with Rikichi joining in after a few cups of sake. Komachi visited with her girlfriends and braided Yukio's hair, her little niece sitting contentedly in her lap. The villagers talked, ate, drank, even danced to a few local ditties around the bonfire. The entire messy affair with Panko's lie was almost completely forgotten; the only reminder was the occasional thump from the storage shed or the shouted curse.

"We'll deal with him later," Rikichi promised, punching his palm. "We'll probably knock him out again and send him down the river with some supplies. He won't be welcome back in these parts again." Kikuchiyo was definitely grateful for this news; he didn't want the blood of another farmer on his hands should Panko prove to be more trouble than he was worth.

The celebration lasted well into the night. The crescendo was definitely the moment Komachi pulled Kikuchiyo to his feet and forced him to dance with her around the bond fire. After a few embarrassing displays of clumsiness, Kikuchiyo was, luckily, saved when more of the villagers decided to join in. Eventually, almost every man, woman, and child jumped and swayed around the fire in time to drums and strings of the village players. The dance lasted until the players ran out of songs, and nearly everyone dropped to the ground in exhaustion. It was then that Rikichi called out for the end, supporting a giggling Sanae on one arm.

"I think that is where we can call it a night, everyone," he laughed. There were half-hearted shouts of protests, but most everyone agreed; it was time for bed. Rikichi raised his arm to Kikuchiyo and Komachi, who stood panting near the bond fire, leaning against each other. "Once more, I offer my congratulations to the two of you, and I wish you all the happiness there is to have. May your family flourish, and may your love never waver. Now, everyone to bed, let's go!"

Komachi sighed and rubbed her eyes, feeling a little lightheaded from the sake she'd drunk. Her feet ached horribly from the dancing, and she didn't really want to walk anywhere. She tugged on Kikuchiyo's sleeve; her feet didn't hurt enough to truly bother her, but she didn't want to lose an excuse to have her new husband carry her.

"Yes?" Kikuchiyo asked, sweeping a strand of hair out of her eyes. She beamed at him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I don't feel like walking anywhere," she drawled. She lifted a leg and gently rubbed it against his knee. "Would you carry me home?" Kikuchiyo chuckled, and then scooped her up into his strong metal arms. He nuzzled his fore plate against her forehead.

"As you wish, my darling," he cooed. "You want to go back to my place, or should we spend the night in your hut?" Komachi grinned.

"Your hut is my hut now; we are married after all." Kikuchiyo robot-smiled and brushed his jaws against her lips.

"That we are."

"Besides," she said, reaching up and stroking his bottom jaw with a single finger, "I want us to be…alone, and out of sight. I don't want to disturb anyone." Kikuchiyo shuddered, and tightened his grip on her slightly.

"I couldn't agree more," the mech rumbled. With a nod to Heihachi and Katsushiro, Kikuchiyo headed towards the village entrance, Komachi clinging tightly to him. Komachi sighed and tucked her face in between his neck guard and his shoulder, closing her eyes and reveling in his warmth. She would share this night with her husband, and nothing would make her happier. Her heart quickened in anticipation, as the moment when she and Kikuchiyo would truly become a part of each other drew ever near.

Kirara watched Kikuchiyo carry her sister away, a heartened flutter sounding behind her womb, causing the baby within to squirm. She hoped the newlyweds would enjoy the night together...and a part of her hoped they wouldn't push it this first night. She scanned the slowly dwindling crowd and found the object of her preoccupied mind. Katsushiro was by the edge of the huts, in conversation with Heihachi about something she couldn't hear. Kirara's heart quickened at the sight of him, just as it had every time she laid eyes on him since he arrived. She wasn't sure what she planned on doing, but she knew whatever it was, it had to be done fast before she lost it. A gentle tap on her shoulder made Kirara gasp and jump, her hand flying to her heart.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so quiet." Tetsuo stood beside her, his face tired but happy; a sleeping Yukio was sprawled in his arms. Kirara sighed and shook her head.

"It's fine; I was elsewhere." She turned towards him so he couldn't see her line of sight, but he probably guessed anyway.

"I'm heading home to put this one in bed," said Tetsuo, gently shifting Yukio to a more comfortable position. Kirara nodded and leaned over to kiss her daughter on the cheek. Yukio smiled in her sleep.

"Go on. I'll be along shortly. Don't wait up for me." Tetsuo nodded, gave Kirara a peck on the forehead, then turned to trudge down the path to their hut. Kirara watched him go with a heavy heart; she so wished she could love him the way he loved her. There was no rational reason she shouldn't, but she knew her reason wasn't rational at all. Tetsuo said he understood, and he would be her friend if she wished; she wished he could be more. Taking a deep breath, Kirara turned her attention back to Katsushiro, and moved forward, her hands clasped and her shoulders squared.

"But, what do I know? Speaking of which," said Heihachi, changing direction from the conversation he and Katsushiro had been having, "maybe it's time I moseyed on back home." Katsushiro gave him a confused look, then noticed the woodcutter samurai was looking at something over his shoulder. Katsushiro turned, and his stomach turned over. Kirara was approaching from behind, but she halted when he spotted her a few feet away. She seemed surprised when he noticed her, but her expression was neutral. Katsushiro cleared his throat and dipped his head in a slight bow.

"Madam Kirara," he said politely. She dipped her head in return, and Katsushiro was surprised to spot anxiety beneath her stoniness.

"Heihachi, do you think we can have some time?" Kirara asked quietly. She didn't take her eyes off of Katsushiro, and he shifted uncomfortably. Heihachi shrugged, his smile as carefree as ever.

"Fine by me," he said. He gave Katsushiro a pat on the elbow, then wheeled his chair around and headed towards the exit at the back of the village. "Just don't you two kids stay up to late, m'kay?" Both Katsushiro and Kirara blushed and looked away from each other for a moment, until the retired samurai disappeared from sight. Katsushiro then dragged his eyes back up to rest on Kirara. She was within his range of vision; her hands clasped over her rotund belly, her cheeks flushed a rose-red. Her lips were lightly parted, and her breathing seemed a little shallower than it should have been. When she lifted her eyes to meet his, he suppressed an involuntary shiver; her eyes hadn't changed in all these years. She still had a….power over him.

"Kirara," he said quietly, but his throat caught on his words. She looked at him for a long moment, then held out her arm to him.

"Walk with me?" she asked. Katsushiro hesitated, but the pleading in her eyes was too much for him to resist. He nodded wordlessly and looped his arm around hers.

Kirara led Katsushiro down the small dirt footpath that led out of the side of the village towards the rice fields, just as Tetsuo had done that very morning. When they reached the line where trod dirt ended and grass and crop began, Kirara halted, nearly tripping Katsushiro.

"Are you alright?" Katsushiro asked. Kirara nodded, not looking at him for a moment. Katsushiro tried to remove his arm so he could turn and get a better look at her, but she held him tightly pinned to her side. "Kirara?" Kirara breathed in deeply through her nose, blew out of her mouth, and then turned to fully face him.

"Katsushiro," she said quietly, taking his hands in hers. She stopped for a moment, needing to take another breath, but she steeled herself quickly and continued. "I know…you and I haven't really talked in a long time…and I'm sorry for that." She raised her gaze to his. "I'm sorry for everything." Katsushiro's throat tightened and his heart rate jumped to a level to equal combat, but he did not break eye contact nor did he back down.

"Kirara, you don't have to—"

"Katsushiro, please." She gripped his hands tightly, so he could feel his own pulse pounding against his palms. "Just let me speak. What I said to you after the war, the last time we talked face-to-face, was not okay. It was unfair and petty of me to call you…what I did. I didn't…understand. I was upset and scorned, and I took it out on you. I'm so, so sorry." She tentatively released one of his hands, and raised her free hand to cup his cheek. Katsushiro inhaled sharply at the sudden touch, his face growing uncomfortably hot, his ears filling with the thump of his flying heart.

"Kirara…"

"I was blind," the water priestess whispered. "I was a silly girl in love with an idea, blind to the actual man standing before me." Katsushiro felt his fingertips and toes grow numb, his lips tingling. He couldn't….but…he had to. Kirara parted her full lips to say something more, but Katsushiro quickly blocked any further speech with his own mouth.

Kirara tensed as Katsushiro suddenly pressed his lips against hers. She certainly hadn't expected him to be so forward; she hadn't really expected anything from him. If anything, she was certain he'd be angry or coy with her after having to endure her distance for sixteen years. For a moment, as Katsushiro worked his steady yet gentle mouth against hers, Kirara was a young woman again, pressed against a wall in an alleyway near Firefly House. Katsushiro had asked her to come with him when he left the group, and he was holding his mouth against hers in a trusting kiss. Only this time, sixteen years later, she didn't resist him. She didn't keep her lips pressed firmly together, and she didn't keep her eyes open. Kirara's eyes drifted closed and she sighed, leaning into him. Katsushiro wrapped one arm around her shoulders and placed his other hand on her hip, and deepened the kiss. Kirara's hands encircled his neck as she responded in kind, her breath coming out in gentle sighs.

When they finally broke the kiss, the two were panting, lips red and puffed, eyes shining. When Katsushiro finally found the strength to speak, it came out in a hoarse whisper.

"We…we shouldn't have done that," he wheezed. He tried to push her away, but his arms refused to move from their spots around her. Kirara blinked, her brow furrowing. "You're married, Kirara. You have a child, and you're expecting another. This…this wasn't right." Kirara sighed again and shook her head.

"Tetsuo knows how I feel about you," she said quietly. "He knows everything…and he's alright with it."

"How?"

"He's a good man, and he cares about my happiness. I wish I could love him the way he loves me…but it's just not there." She raised her eyes back to him. "He's not you, Katsushiro." Katsushiro frowned, but it was more in sadness than anger.

"When why did you marry him in the first place?" he asked.

"Because, I was ashamed at my behavior, and I was scared of being alone. I didn't want to live with the guilt of what I had done to you alone. He…he was what I needed; a buffer, to help me heal and figure things out eventually." Katsushiro sighed like her, then smiled and caressed her cheek.

"Then I am forever grateful to him," he said. He bit his lip, a curious thought occurring to him.

"So, you don't, you know, feel the same way about…about Kambei-sensei?" Kirara's face fell, weighed down by years.

"I didn't know for a long time…but I realized eventually that I was more in love with the idea of him than him himself. I was in love with what he represented, not who he was. You though, you're you. You're Katsushiro; that's all I need." Katsushiro smiled again and stroked her cheek a second time.

"This isn't exactly easy, you know," he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. Kirara smiled and nodded.

"I know…there's still a lot of healing to do, but if there's anything to be learned from Kikuchiyo and Komachi it's that time and love sometimes are entwined." Katsushiro's smile broadened, and a bit of haughtiness entered his brow.

"So it's true then," he drawled, "you do love me." Kirara leaned her head against his shoulder, and he settled his hands on her hips.

"I always have, Katsushiro," she breathed into his cloak. "I'm sorry it took me this long to realize it." Katsushiro leaned his cheek against her head, simply feeling her heartbeat against his. Her pregnancy put a little distance between them, but the warmth from the womb was comforting. He smiled when he felt the baby within her push its feet against his stomach. "Is it true you can't see very well?" Kirara asked quietly. Katsushiro stiffened a bit, but exhaled and let the tension leave his body.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," he said. "My vision started declining four years ago, but it's been getting worse in the last month. Heihachi-dono is the only one who knows about it. Not even Sensei knows."

"Do you think you'll go blind?"

"No; I'll just have a very limited range of clarity. It's difficult to be a nearsighted samurai, but I refuse to give it up." Kirara laughed softly into his shoulder.

"I guess we both have healing to do, haven't we?" Katsushiro smiled and raised his eyes to the stars. They were blurry and very dull to him, but they were still beautiful. As was the woman in his arms.

"Yes, but we shall heal together."

Kikuchiyo woke slowly the next morning, his systems taking longer than normal to boot up. He shifted a few inches on his back and felt a throb of achiness flare in his hip joints. He huffed, internally scolding himself for not being more careful; all of the activity the previous night had really taken it out of him…especially the latter half. But remembering the night before quickly brought a euphoric glow to the mech samurai's metal body and organic guts. As his systems slowly came online, he became aware of the warm body lying on top of his, her head tucked just below his neck guard; her arms sprawled over his, her legs tangled around his. Her breathing was still steady in sleep, and he could feel her pulse against his armor. Kikuchiyo sighed contentedly, and slowly brought his hands up to rest on her back. Her skin was so soft beneath his metal fingers, like silk or solid milk. She was hot to the touch, though he guessed it was because she was lying on him and they both lay beneath a blanket. He hoped she wasn't too hot. He gently stoked her back, simply losing himself in the rising and falling from her breaths. He hoped she would wake up soon, but he didn't want to rouse her if she was tired. He'd stay awake since his sleep cycle was finished, but if she was as sore as he was she probably wouldn't wake up for another hour.

"Mmm, Kiku…" Komachi sighed, her voice slightly slogged. A drip of guilt plopped into Kikuchiyo's stomach; guess she wasn't that deep a sleeper after all. Kikuchiyo raised his head and caught Komachi's already-open eyes. She was smiling gently, the relaxed kind of smile of one who bathed in absolute bliss. Kikuchiyo gave her a robot-smile and caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"Sorry if I woke you," he said quietly. "I thought you'd sleep for at least another hour. If my cycles weren't finished I'd sleep longer." Komachi laughed softly, leaning into his thumb.

"You didn't wake me. I woke on my own. I feel…so refreshed." She clung to his shoulders and pulled herself up his body until her bare chest rested against his, and her face was peeking above his neck guard. She winced a bit at the movement, but when she settled back down the pain quickly left her face. Kikuchiyo rubbed her shoulder, his visor aglow with concern.

"You okay?" he asked. "If it hurts too much, don't move." Komachi shook her head, smiling.

"It's fine. It's not a bad kind of pain; it's a great kind of pain." She leaned down and kissed the scar on his face plate. "It's the best kind of pain I've ever had; I'll be sorry to see it go." Kikuchiyo snorted, a tiny puff of steam popping from his pipe.

"I caused that pain," he said, perhaps a little more bitterly than he meant. "I'm really sorry about that. I told you we should have taken it slower." Komachi laughed again, louder this time, and raised a hand to tap him on the helm with her knuckle.

"Don't be a buzz-kill," she teased. "I'd rather be in pain from a wonderful night with my husband than wake up alone and in fine shape." A part of Kikuchiyo cringed at even the mention of her being in pain because of what the two of them had done, but another, bigger part swelled with pride at her referring to him as her husband.

"You think it was wonderful?" he asked. She laughed yet again, even heartier this time.

"Better than wonderful." She moved her hands up his arms and shoulders to either side of his face. "I don't think I've ever experienced as magical as what we did together. We…we are one now, Kiku." He inhaled, his jaws parting slightly. For a moment, she seemed to be framed by a halo of light; she was something so special…he didn't even know if she was truly human. She was something more; she was _his_ something more. The vision faded, but she remained, beaming down at him. His wife. His love.

"Well when you put it that way." He reached up to frame her face with his wide hands, just as she was his. Her eyes grew shiny, and her lips parted slightly.

"Promise me something," Komachi whispered, rubbing her cheek against his hand. Kikuchiyo rumbled deep in his chest, the vibration sending a sonar-like imprint of her body against his to his processor.

"Anything my love, just name it." Komachi watched him for a moment, and Kikuchiyo wondered if she expected him to read her mind or something. But then, with a gentle breath, Komachi leaned down and pressed her lips to his jaws, working her mouth in a deep kiss he couldn't respond to, was powerless to resist. Kikuchiyo shuddered, a groan escaping his vocal chords. He wrapped his arms around Komachi's lower back and clung to her like a squirrel to a tree.

"Promise me I'll wake up like this every morning from now on," Komachi breathed, moving her lips from the seam in his jaws to his scar, then to his helm, his audio, and to the corner of his lower jaw. "Promise me I'll always awaken in your arms, or beside you, as long as the two of us live." Kikuchiyo rumbled again, forcing down the oily tears that started to gather in his visor. He dragged a hand up Komachi's back, making her shiver, and trailed it across her shoulder before bringing it up to his lower jaw. He flicked the switch to activate his oral-mod, and then turned his head to capture her mouth in a passionate, deep kiss. She sighed and wrapped her legs around his broad middle. When he released her mouth, Kikuchiyo gave her a wicked grin, one he could only keep in place for a few seconds.

"Nothing would make me happier," he whispered. "Consider it a deal for life." Komachi smiled at him, caressing his helm.

"I love you," she said, "forever, my samurai." Kikuchiyo nuzzled her jaw with his.

"I love you," he sighed, "forever, my flower." No truer words had he ever spoken, or would ever speak. This, Kikuchiyo thought, is where I belong. This is my place, and always will be.

Their lips met once more, and many times thereafter.


End file.
